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LOVELL'S 

WESiniNSTER 

SERIES 


Entered at the Post Office^ New York^ as second class matter. 



FAMILY FAILING 


BY 

HAWLEY SMART 


tAuthoriied Edition 


NEW YORK 

JOHN VIT. LOVELL COMPANY 

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A FAMILY FAILING 



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■!4V 







A FAMILY FAILING 



HAWLEY SMART 

AUTHOR OF 


“ LONG ODDS,”. “ WITHOUT LOVE OR LICENCE.” 


Author iT^ed Edition 


copyright ^ 

SEP 11 1891 


NEW YORK 



UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 

SUCCESSORS TO 

JOHN. W. LOVELL COMPANY 


150 WORTH ST.; COR. MISSION PLACE 




Copyright, i8gi, 

BY 


UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY. 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. 

1. — The Sedberghs of Enderby . , 

II. — High Play 

III. — The Ball, and what came of it 

IV. — The Sedbergh Temper 

V. — Paying for Pleasure . , , 

VI. — Making a Reputation , , , 

VII. — Bessie's Discovery . • • • 

VIII. — In Training 

IX. — At “The Plough'' . . . . 

X. — “ The Match " . . . . 

XL — Death of Ralph Sedbergh . • 

XII. — The Reading of the Will . 

XIII. — A Sinister Rumour . . . • 

XIV. — The Opening of the Packet , 

Conclusion . . o * , 


PAGE 

I 

8 

17 

24 

30 

36 

43 

50 

57 

63 

70 

7/ 

85 

92 

99 



A FAMILY FAILING. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE SEDBERGHS OF ENDERBY. 

They were a crotchety family, of that there could be no 
doubt ; it was well known in Kilmington and its neigh 
bourhood ; but the Sedberghs had been settled in that part 
of the world now for many a long year, and the people 
were used to them. They were troubled with what their 
friends called the family failing, but what those who were 
not on terms of intimacy with them were wont to designate 
most irascible tempers. Doctor Radley, their regular 
medical attendant, would shrug his shoulders at any out- 
buist on the part of a Sedbergh, and ask what you could 
expect of a race born with that hereditary taint in the 
blood ? Sometimes his auditors would raise their eyebrows 
on hearing this, and tapping their foreheads respond “ How 
very sad. I had no idea of it.^^ At which the doctor 
would burst out laughing, and say : 

‘‘ Pooh, pooh ! you don't understand the Sedberghs ; 
they are no more mad than you are, but they all suffer 
from that very commonplace hereditary complaint called 
the gout, than which perhaps there is no greater quickener 
of the temper." 

Eccentric they were ; the gout seemed to loom as an 
incubus over them all, that had to be grappled with sooner 
or later, but perhaps there had never been so eccentric 
a member of the family as Ralph Sedbergh, its present 
head and the owner of Enderby Hall and the adjoin- 
ing man T. As an eldest son, he was possessed of a 
very comfortable income, and as such was enabled to 
indulge in crotchets of his own at will. 


X 


2 


A FAMILY FAILING. 


When we have our way to make in the world, the riding 
of hobby horses is apt to be found unprofitable and expen- 
sive, but when our bread, handsomely buttered, iS already 
provided, a man may please himself about such things. 
John, the second brother, had entered the army and had 
for some years done very well in that profession, but having 
upon one occasion been sharply rebuked on parade by a 
commanding officer somewhat given to intemperate 
language. Captain John rather astonished that gentleman 
by replying volubly in the same strain. This, of course, 
was a thing that could not be overlooked from a military 
point of view — rightly or wrongly, a colonel can brook no 
reply upon parade, much less when it is couched in 
vehement terms and garnished with a few unnecessary 
expletives. That his commanding officer had been himself 
in fault saved Captain John from a Court-martial, but he 
received a brief intimation that he must promptly retire 
from Her Majesty’s Service if he wished to avoid one. 
The Captain was a fatalist as regarded the hereditary foe of 
the Sedberghs ; he declared that his nial apropos loss of 
temper was entirely owing to the poison lying dormant in 
his veins, and when, some months afterwards, he found 
himself laid up with a genuine attack of the complaint in 
question, he felt quite assured that he was not in the least 
responsible for his gross act of insubordination. 

Aleck, the younger brother, had, like many others, be- 
taken himself nominally to the Bar, but practically to 
literature. With that strange kink in the brain characteristic 
of his race, he declared that this latter was forced upon 
him, and that when the gout forms part of a man’s in- 
heritance, it is his bounden duty to seek an employment in 
which he can utilise it. If a man cannot turn out slashing 
articles and scathing reviews under such inspiration, you 
may depend upon it that he has either been born destitute 
of verjuice or that the pen of a ready writer is not in him. 
Aleck Sedbergh, at all events, was now well known in 
journalism — known as a man possessed of a biting pen and 
never in any lack of employment. He was doing well in 
his vocation, and though by no means on the way to make 
his fortune, had no difficulty in earning a very comfortable 
income. His profession, of course, chained him pretty 


the SEDBERGHS of Ei^BERBlr. 


well to London, and his visits to Enderby were few and far 
between. The Hall, indeed, was not a house at which 
people cared much to stay. Its master was eccentric, past 
the run of the family generally. His crotchets were 
endless, and it was impossible to say under what regime 
you might be asked to live, by a confirmed hypochondriac, 
who was continually taking up with some new theory 
regarding his health, and the worst of it was, that whatever 
the new idea might be that seized him, he sought to impose 
it upon his family and guests. As his son said, “ It^s all 
very well for the governor to go ill, but, confound it ! he 
insists upon our all being ill too ; because he fancies things 
don't agree with him, he considers there should be ‘ no 
more cakes and ale, or ginger hot in the mouth ' for any- 
body — one might as well try to be cheerful in a mausoleum 
as at the Hall. No, Doctor, solitary confinement may be 
unpleasant, but it's cheerful to living with my father." 

Harold Sedbergh made this speech on the occasion of a 
brief visit to Enderby, where he had found the Squire 
suffering from what Dr. Radley called a severe attack of 
vegetarianism. That he troubled his home but seldom, 
was only what might have been expected. A father, with 
nothing really the matter with him, but consumed with a 
morbid anxiety about his own health, would throw a gloom 
over any house of which he was the owner, and good 
though the Kilmington shooting was, yet he invariably 
found that a fortnight at Enderby was as much as he could 
stand. And as for bringing down friends of his own to 
shoot with him, he shrank from the idea of exposing his 
father^s peculiarities to a stranger's eye. Although no 
battle royal had ever taken place between them, Ralph 
Sedbergh and his son got on badly ; it could hardly be 
otherwise. The hobbies of the elder were very exas- 
perating, and he was autocratic — one might almost say 
tyrannical — in his own house. He was no niggard, and 
would give his guests the best of everything, but then it 
must be what he happened to think the best of everything 
at the time. It is not pleasant to have dry sherry forced 
upon you when you prefer claret, or to be condemned to 
play whist or billiards when you have come down to shoot, 
simply because your host has suddenly conceived the idea 


4 


A FAMILY Failing. 


that a wet jacket is pernicious to health. Ralph Sedbergh 
and his son more than once had been perilously near a 
quarrel cl outrance^ and it was greatly owing to the judicious 
counsels of Doctor Radley that this had been so far 
avoided. Harold possessed, in a modified degree, the 
family temper, and like most of us in our youth was keenly 
sensitive to ridicule. His father tried him sorely at times, 
and though Dr. Radley had known him from his childhood 
it was doubtful whether the young man would have listened 
so readily to his advice if it had not been for an influence 
that the doctor was far from suspecting. He would 
scarcely have found Harold so amenable if Bessie Radley 
had not been the prettiest girl in those parts. 

“ My dear boy,” the doctor would say, “ I’ll grant youVe 
difficult cards to play, but you must have patience. As for 
combating these extraordinary fads of yoiir father’s, I tell 
you it’s impossible. I’m one of his oldest friends, and I’ve 
tried to persuade him out of them on more than one occa- 
sion, but it’s hopeless. While the fit’s on him he will 
persist in his whim of the moment, calls me and all the 
profession a set of charlatans, wedded to old-world 
theories, and knowing nothing whatever of the latest 
hygienic discoveries. He’s an excellent constitution, 
there is nothing the matter with him, and when he’s really 
ill, you will see he’ll send for me at once. In the mean- 
time you must bear with him ; all quarrels are bad, quarrels 
between father and son worse than most, not only from a 
moral but from a worldly point of view. You’re not down 
here very much, you must make the best of it when you 
are.” 

He was not down there very much, no, that’s just where 
the shoe pinched. It was his inability to submit to his 
father’s autocratic whims, which prevented his passing a 
considerable portion of his time there, that so irritated 
him. His sire had no right to impose his monstrous 
caprices on others. He wished to live in his home in a 
great measure, to see much of the little kingdom to which 
he was heir, though how much his having fallen in love 
with Bessie Radley had to do with all these high-flown 
sentiments it is hard to say. 

You must recollect,” continued the doctor, “that your 


THE SEDBERGHS OF EKDERBY. 


5 


father is only doing what scores of our fellow creatures 
are. Look at the papers, and you will see that no sooner 
does a ruffian from innate brutal ferocity, from lust of gain, 
or other vicious motives, take the life of a fellow creature, 
than there^s a lot of idiots at once begin to argue that the 
murderer’s will was under the domination of a stronger, in 
short, that he was hypnotised, and only the instrument of 
the real criminal. As if human nature wasn’t always 
human nature. Hypnotism ! Bosh ! Don’t tell me ! The 
gout in some of its phases is far more likely to incite a 
man to crime or injustice than any mesmeric influences a 
fellow being ever possessed.” 

Harold Sedbergh smiled, although a little surprised at 
the vehemence of the doctor’s harangue. But besides a 
profound contempt for all the practices of Mesmer and 
his disciples, Dr. Radley knew that the Enderby lands 
were not entailed, and though for the last three hundred 
years the eldest son had invariably succeeded his father, 
yet there was no saying what such a violent and eccentric 
man as Ralph Sedbergh might do in case of deadly quarrel 
with his natural heir. Harold was an only child, he had 
lost his mother in infancy ; and the death of his wife, as 
the doctor well knew, had a great deal to say to the eccen 
tricities that Ralph Sedbergh had latterly developed. He 
had been deeply attached to her, and her early decease 
had been a blow from which he had never recovered. 
There were no grounds for apprehending that the Squire 
would be guilty of such injustice, but at the same time the 
doctor had known of too many queer wills made by 
morbid and irritable people not to be aware of the un- 
looked-for surprises they sometimes prepare for their rela- 
tions — much angry recrimination and fierce contesting 
of the deceased’s last testament, often the result of such 
whimsical bequest as profiteth nothing, unless to the 
lawyers. 

It must not be supposed that Ralph Sedbergh’s fantastic 
whims escaped the notice or comment of his brothers. 
Though somewhat peculiar themselves, more especially 
Captain John, they were really alive to the absurdities that 
possessed the head of the house, and always curious with 
regard to his latest idiosyncrasy. John, perhaps, more so 


c 


A Family failing. 


than Aleck, which was easily accounted for. The latter 
was really a busy man, and perpetual work kept in check 
in his case the queer crotchets characteristic of the race. 
With Captain John it was different ; on his retirement from 
the army, he had settled in London, and lived the life of 
a regular clubman. Occupation he had none, and the 
labours of his day were principally confined to forestalling 
his brother members in the rush for the evening papers, 
and blowing up the servants at the establishment to which 
he was affiliated. Between that and nursing himself through 
rather frequently recurring fits of gout, to which a strong taste 
for Burgundy and good living not a little contributed, 
the captain was passing the autumn of his life. His 
brother's whims were a source of unfailing interest to him. 
You see, although living in London and looking upon 
himself as a man about town, his life in reality was very 
sluggish and monotonous, and when that is the case, it is 
astonishing what petty incidents will interest us. Captain 
John delighted in catching hold of his nephew at all 
times, but more especially when he had been recently 
down to Enderby. Although he and Ralph had been on 
fairly good terms, yet that genuine affection usual between 
brothers had never existed in their case ; the practical 
soldier had always laughed at Ralph's fanciful theories, and, 
let them say what they will, nobody likes much to be 
laughed at, still, considering what a contentious race the 
Sedberghs naturally were, the three brothers had always 
preserved, if not cordial, decorous relations to each other. 

As for Harold, he entertained very different feelings with 
regard to his two uncles. He disliked John's domineering 
manner, and looked upon him besides, sad to say, as a 
most unmitigated bore. However, London is large, and 
as their lives ran in very different grooves, they did not 
very often come across each other. With his Uncle Aleck 
it was otherwise. He delighted in him, and was never 
better pleased than when he could entrap him to dinner, 
or receive a hasty note bidding him to accompany that 
gentleman to one of those symposia common amongst 
the brethren of the pen. It was now about three months 
since Harold had been at Enderby, and the conversation 
narrated above with Dr. Radley had taken place. He well- 


THE SEDBERGHS OF ENDERBY. 


7 


nigh vowed then never to set foot in his father's house 
again, so uncomfortable had the latter made it during his 
short stay. But then there came a yearning to see Bessie 
Radley once more, and though the poet may sing that ‘‘ a 
young man^s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love,^^ ex- 
perience shows that as a rule they by no means take the 
complaint in that modified form, but are apt rightly or 
wrongly to be in terrible earnest about it, and are prone to 
the committal of shocking absurdities while under the in- 
fluence of the passion. Not only had he not seen Bessie, 
but he had heard nothing of her ; although he had 
known her on and off pretty well all her life, there had 
been a gap in their acquaintance consequent upon school 
days, and it was only of late that he had met Miss Radley 
in the role of a young lady grown up and out. In fact, 
when he was away, Harold Sedbergh heard very little of 
Kilmington and its neighbourhood. His father rarely 
wrote to him, and his only other correspondent. Dr. 
Radley, was far too busy a man for letter writing. 

It was not that the doctor's practice, although he had a 
very fair one, was so extensive, but that he was one of 
those active men who can brook nothing going on round the 
country side without his presence. Whether it was a fair 
or a sale, the doctor was sure to be there. He was no 
hunting man, but whenever the hounds met near Kilming- 
ton, the doctor and his pretty daughter were sure to turn 
up at the cover side. When he did put pen to paper, he 
was most amusing. His letters contained all the gossip 
of the country for miles round, told in dry humorous 
fashion. Nobody enjoyed them more than Harold, but 
they had one grave defect, they either contained no 
allusion to his daughter, or at the best, a brief “ kind 
regards from my wife and Bessie.” 

No lover, with a temperament warmer than a fish, could 
appease his passion on such scanty pabulum. It was not 
to be thought of ; he must bear his father's caprices as best 
he might, but run down to Enderby he must. 


8 


A FAMILY FAILINa. 


CHAPTER 11. 

HIGH PLAY. 

Before starting for Enderby, Harold Sedbergh received a 
letter from the doctor, one paragraph in which made him 
look rather serious. 

“ Fresh air,’^ he wrote, “ is no doubt an excellent thing, 
but when a gentleman of fifty persists in taking it in the 
form of draughts, at the commencement of an English 
spring, it is apt to be pernicious. Your father’s last craze is 
open windows, which means there is half a gale blowing all 
through the house. He’ll wind up by getting what it’s the 
fashion to call a chill and complications, which means that 
he’ll catch cold and make himself seriously ill. However, 
remonstrance is useless, and only puts him into a violent 
passion. He must just ‘gang his ain gait/ as the Scotch 
say. You wouldn’t find the Hall a pleasant place to live in 
just now.” 

“ Pleasant this, to hear,” muttered Harold to himself, 
“ for a gentleman just proposing to stay there. This seems 
more serious than most of his fancies. Radley generally 
laughs at him ; still, he evidently thinks he may do himself 
harm this time. However, there is nothing to be done that 
I can see. He’d kick me out of the house, probably, if I 
ventured to say anything. I’ll go and talk it over with 
Uncle Aleck.” 

But Aleck Sedbergh, like most of his vocation, was rather 
a difficult man to put your finger on. His haunts were 
numerous and well-known, but he’d either just left, or had 
not looked in yet, when you enquired at them for him when 
you wanted to see him. If you were not in search of him 
he was a man you met everywhere. However, Harold was 
a skilled hunter when it came to tracking his uncle, and, 
after a few disappointments, fairly ran him to earth, and 
was at once warmly welcomed. 

“ My dear boy,” said his uncle, “ I’m full of business and 
also oppressed with hunger. The work of a fasting man is 


HIGH PLAY. 


9 


invariably washy in quality. Come along and have some 
lunch, and we can have a talk while we are eating.'^ 

They accordingly proceeded to a well-known restaurant 
in the Strand, and, when they had given their orders and 
seated themselves at the table, Harold read the extract 
concerning his father from the doctor’s letter. 

‘‘Bad, as Radley says,” was Uncle Aleck’s comment. 
“We are a queer race, and bad to drive at the best of times, 
but your father is a good deal queerer and more obstinate 
than the rest of us. Don’t for Heaven’s sake think I’m 
hinting that he is unfit to manage his own atLiirs, but he’s 
odd, very odd, to say the least of it. You can’t do any- 
thing, and had best keep away from Enderby. By-the-way, 
what the devil put it into your head to go down there in 
March ? Was it this ? ” and he pointed to the letter. 

“ Not altogether.” 

Aleck Sedbergh eyed his nephew keenly as he spoke. 

“ Queer idea,” he said, “ to think of going down into the 
country at the end of March, when there s nothing to do. 
Sort of thing that would occur to one of us, and nobocy 
else. A terrible mistake you haven’t a profession of some 
sort. Something to do is good for every young fellow, if 
it’s only to keep him out of mischief.” 

“ I know,” replied Harold impetuously, “and I did want 
to go into the Army, but my father was in such a rage 
because I was ploughed for my examination that he never 
would allow me to try again, or consent to let me get into 
it through the militia ” 

“ I know, I know,” replied his uncle, “ a great mistake, a 
great mistake, and rough upon you, very. However, I must 
be off now. Take my advice, and don’t go near Enderby 
at present ; you are likely to have a row with your father if 
you do, and that’s a thing to be avoided. You told me last 
time that you didn’t part on good terms.” And with this 
Aleck Sedbergh shook his nephew warmly by the hand and 
hurried away. 

As for Harold, he remained for some'few minutes musing 
over what his uncle had said, and then, after the manner of 
the generality of people who have sought advice, as he 
walked back to his own rooms, made up his mind to 
(Jisregard it. On arriving there he found a letter on the 


10 


A FAMILY FATLINa. 


table which proved to be an invitation to spend a week at 
Derrington Park. 

The very thing. Derrington was within ten miles of 
Enderby, lying about six miles on the other side of 
Kilmington. It was one of the best houses in the county, 
and the Newburys, as Harold knew, entertained in 
princely fashion. A cht »*y house to pay a visit to, an 
you were ever such a Sybai’te in your tastes. You were 
sure of meeting pleasant peopl? at Derrington : vou could 
rely on the wines and the cookery ; and though field sports 
were about over for the year, you could be quite certain 
there must be something going on where Lady Newbury 
held sway. It is true the more sober people in the neigh- 
bourhood of Derrington were wont to shake their heads 
over the doings at Derrington. There were rumours that 
the Newburys kept the most uncanonical hours; there were 
dark whispers of Nap in tfie evening for by no means 
nominal points — of Poker in the smoking-room in the small 
hours. It was said that Lady Newbury was not only 
desperately given to cards, but was not satisfied unless the 
stakes were high, and that her sons and daughters had 
imbibed similar tastes. Derrington, sensible people opined, 
was a dangerous house for a young man to stay in, and they 
might have added, for a young woman either. It is difficult 
to decline to take part in the amusements of the house you 
are staying in, and more than one of these latter had 
bitterly rued the consequences of a visit to Derrington. 

Harold Sedbergh had of course heard all this gossip, but 
looked upon it for the most part as sheer exaggeration. He 
was wont to pooh-pooh the whole thing — say he knew 
better, he had stayed there, and it was nothing of the kind. 
He never reflected that he had only stayed there for a ball, 
and that his visit had extended over only two nights, and 
that the rubber in the smoking-room had been for moderate 
points on the first of these evenings was hardly a guarantee 
that it was never , otherwise. He of course knew the 
Newburys in Town, but he was not likely to be enlightened 
on their gambling propensities there. He had run across 
them at Ascot, and though he knew the young ladies by no 
means confined their speculations to gloves, and had heard 
that Jim, the one in Guards, was rather given tq 


HIGH PLAY. 


11 


putting rt down,” yet he had no actual knowledge of the 
fact. At the present moment, all he thought was how jolly 
it was of Lady Newbury to ask him, that he should pass a 
pleasant week at Derrington, and could see Bessie again 
without running any risk of ciuarrelling with his father. 
They had always spare riding and driving horses for their 
friends at the Park. He accor* mgly accepted Lady New- 
bury’s invitation, and awaited^the day when he became due 
beneath 9’^ George’s roof-tiee with considerable impatience. 
He communicated his intended visit to neither the Radleys 
nor his father, intending to indict upon them that dubious 
gratification, a surprise. You may achieve your object, but 
the chances are much against your advent being regarded 
as an unmixed blessing. 

It is not necessary to go into a very elaborate description 
of the Newburys. Sir George was a wealthy man ; besides 
the large landed property he owned near Kilmington, he 
was also the possessor of prosperous coal mines and slate 
quarries. The family were all addicted to high play, but, 
with two exceptions, they were not gamblers ; they played 
habitually for high stakes, but then it must be remembered 
they were rich people, and pounds to them were pretty 
much the same as shillings to others. A dangerous house 
for any but strong-minded people to stay at. The girls 
really meant no harm, but utterly forgot that their visitors 
were seldom as well-off as themselves. Just as they referred 
any one of their feminine guests who might be struck by 
some masterpiece of their wardrobes, to go to Madame 

X , utterly oblivious to the fact that Madame X 

was one of the most expensive milliners of the West of 
London, and quite beyond the compass of young ladies 
with moderate means. I have said that there were two 
exceptions, and these were Lady Newbury and her eldest 
son. They say that high play leaves its traces on the 
countenance, if so, then it was hard to believe that the 
well-dressed, well-preserved woman not looking within ten 
years of the half-century she really was, who welcomed 
Harold Sedbergh in low, musical voice on his arrival at 
Derrington, was as confirmed a gambler as ever cut a pack. 
And Jim, her eldest son, had inherited the fatal vice froip 
her. 


12 


A FAMILY FAILING. 


Harold was so far right in his prognostications. The 
house was full of pleasant people, and he was made 
cordially welcome among them, but when at a late hour 
the men wended their way to the smoking-room, he was 
fain to admit that the card-playing at Derrington was 
decidedly not for sugar-plums. Personally he had been 
fortunate, he had held good cards, and won what he con- 
sidered a large stake for a drawing-room round game, but 
he saw that nobody else seemed impressed with it in that 
light. 

But ere they had assembled many minutes in conclave 
over their tobacco, Jim Newbury, who was never happy 
unless he was either on the race-course or at the card-table, 
proposed a quiet hand at Poker. Two of the other men 
nodded assent, and turning to Harold, Jim said : 

“ You^ll join us, Sedbergh ? With such a vein of luck as 
you’re in, it would be a sin not to see it out.” 

Now this was just what Harold did not want to do 
The round game in the drawing-room had opened his eyes, 
and he felt instinctively that the play in the smoking-room 
was likely to be high in real earnest. But then he had 
been a large winner at Nap, and did not like to refuse. At 
first his luck stood to him bravely, still although it most 
certainly could not be said that he did not know the game, 
he had not much experience of it, and found himself pitted 
against three practised hands. His injudicious play out- 
balanced his luck, and the consequence was that at three in 
the morning he had not only lost his winnings, but a con 
siderable sum to boot. Still, as he ascended the stairs to 
his bedroom, like most neophytes, he blamed the cards and 
not his want of skill in the playing of them. A common 
enough thing in the game of life. We blame the hands 
dealt us, instead of reflecting on how very badly we played 
them. 

Still, his losings were not sufficient to trouble Harold 
much, and it was with a light heart that, having borrowed a 
hack, he rode off next morning nominally to see his father, 
but in reality to see Bessie Radley. In this latter he was 
disappointed, for she and her father were out. 

But Mrs. Radley was at home, and he learnt from her 
with much satisfaction that they were coming to the ball at 


HIGH PLAY. 


13 


Derrington, which was to take place on the Thursday night. 
Lady Newbury threw herself into other things with as much 
energy as she did into cards. She was always doing her 
best to keep the neighbourhood alive, and having arrived at 
the conclusion that it required what she called ‘‘a good 
shaking up,^’ had issued invitations far and wide for a dance 
at the Park. 

Harold was of course aware of this, it was the plea on 
which he had been asked to stay at Derrington, and it was 
a consolation to know that Bessie was coming to the ball. 
That evening, curiously enough, was a repetition of the 
previous one ; he was again a winner in the drawing-room, 
but when it came to the higher stakes of the Poker table 
afterwards, the cards once more ran against him. 

There was no secrecy about the proceedings in the 
smoking-room, and if exact sums were not mentioned, it 
was well known how it had fared with the players on the 
previous evening. Lady Newbury commiserated with 
Harold on his bad luck, at dinner. 

“ It is hard upon you, and hard upon us, Mr. Sedbergh, 
you win all our money in the drawing-room, and then let 
them plunder you over the tobacco. Do you think they 
are too strong for you ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, no,’' rejoined Harold gaily, “ iPs just my luck 
turns There’s very little play in Poker, you know.” 

“Don’t fall into that mistake,” replied Lady Newbury, 
shaking her head. “ I have played it myself and know.’’ 
(Was there any game of cards that her ladyship had not 
played ? ) “ There is hardly a game extant in which skill 

does not tell in the long run. Take my advice, and eschew 
cards in the smoking-room, unless you feel confident you 
play as well as your neighbours.” 

Harold, however, made light of his losses, saying he had 
no doubt it would all come back before the week was 
over and Lady Newbury was not the woman to preach 
abstinence from what had become to herself a mere 
habitude. 

After the ladies left, one of the men, who happened to 
be in a cavalry regiment, chanced to mention a match that 
had taken place in their barrack square only the week 
before. 


14 


A FAMILY FAILINO. 


‘‘ It was the old story, you know, a horse against a man 
for a hundred yards.” 

“ And what odds did the horse give ? ” 

“ He was placed with his head to the winning-post, and 
at the word ‘go,’ his rider had to turn him right round 
before he started, while the man went off at once.” 

“ And the man won ? ” said Harold. 

“No, it was t’other way on. You see the backer of the 
horse was rather a crafty hand, and he’d got the riding- 
master to ride his own charger for him. Now old Prance 
is a tip-top menage rider, and his charger about the most 
beautifully-broken in England. At the word ‘go,’ the 
horse swung round on his hind legs like a teetotum, was in 
his stride in a second, and fairly chopped Philipson, and 
yet Tom can run a bit too.” 

“ Ah, now you describe it, I can fancy the man being 
beat, but in the way the match is usually made, that is, to 
run fifty yards out, round a post, and then fifty yards home 
again, the man generally has the best of it.” 

“ Didn’t know you were good at running, Sedbergh,” said 
Jim Newbury. “ May I ask if you’ve ever run against a 
horse ? ” 

“Yes, at Oxford, a hundred yards round a post, as I 
have just described.” 

“ And you won ? ” said Jim. 

“Yes, cleverly,” replied Harold. “I was considered 
pretty smart up to a quarter-of-a-mile at Oxford.” 

“ I’ll tell you what,” said young Newbury. “ I’ve got a 
cleverish pony here — it beats you round a post for fifty or 
a hundred if you like. Let’s have a match. It would be 
great fun, amuse the ladies, and though as the song goes : 
‘'I'he nights may take care of themselves as they may,’ 
\vp n»e always bothered to know what to do with the after- 
noons.” 

•• i ou can put it down for a hundred, Newbury, and I 
can only hope I haven’t gone off in speed since my college 
days.” 

The match created great excitement when announc( d in 
the drawing-room. The pros and cons were eagerly dis- 
cussed, and the partisans of Sedbergh were quite as 
numerous as those of the pony. It was not likely, amidst 


HIGH PLAY. 


15 


that sporting household and their guests, that there would 
lack of speculation over the event. By the next day, the 
match was the talk of the whole house, and when they 
assembled in the Park in the afternoon to see it, from Sir 
George and Lady Newbury down to the housemaids and 
stable-boys, the probability is, that there was no one without 
a wager on the result. Fifty yards of beautiful turf had 
been carefully measured out, the slender white post at one 
end, and a white line on the turf marked the scratch line at 
the other end. Jim’s was a very smart pony, but the match 
was a novelty to him, he had never seen the experiment 
tried, and he was sorely puzzled in his own mind as to what 
tactics to pursue. He knew it all rested upon what terms 
with Harold he got round the turning-point. His pony 
was quick as a cat on its legs, but if he drove it along at 
full speed of course it would be much more difficult to pull 
him up to round the post. 

At the word ‘‘go” he started at half-speed, while his 
opponent jumped off with the quickness of a man used to run- 
ning sprint races. But no sooner did Harold understand his 
antagonist’s tactics, than he palpably slackened his pace till 
within a few strides of the turning-post, where he made a 
sudden rush, was round it quick as lightning, and away on 
the homeward journey at the very top of his speed. Jim’s 
pony was very handy round the post, but still Harold had 
stolen a long lead from him. And, quick beginner though 
the little steed was, still for the best part of the way the man 
was going quicker than the pony, and when the latter began 
to gain on its leader, there was no time to make up the 
distance he had lost at the turn, and Harold Sedbergh was 
an easy winner. 

“ You’ve done me,’' said Jim, good-humouredly, as he 
jumped off his pony. “ Would have, I dare say, any- 
how. There’s no doubt you understand this sort of thing 
better than I do. I shall have to study it up before I touch 
it again. I fancy, though, you would always do the horse 
over this course.” 

“ Congratulations, Mr. Sedbergh,” said Lady Newbury, 
“ although I have lost my money. I was bound to back the 
family, you know. Let us hope that it’s a sign that the luck 
in the smoking-room is about to turn.” 


16 


A FAMILY Failing 


As for Jim Newbury, he pondered considerably over the 
event of the afternoon, turning over in his mind how he was 
to be what he called “ quits ” with Harold. It was not that 
he bore him the slightest malice for having won his money, 
that was nothing. Jim never felt the faintest animosity to 
anyone on that subject, but his amour propre was wounded. 
He had bet upon a “ game he did not understand, and had 
not come out of it so well as the Heathen Chinee. Losing 
his money he did not mind, but that anyone should ob- 
viously get the best of him was always a sore subject with 
Jim. Although Harold had told him that he had beaten 
the horse upon a previous occasion, it was his own con- 
fidence in the cleverness of his pony that had made him 
offer the bet — still, he now considered that he had been 
drawn into a ‘‘ soft match,” and felt that he should not be him- 
self again until he was ‘‘ up sides ” with Harold Sedbergh. 


THE BALL, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


17 


CHAPTER III. 

THE BALL, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

The Derrington dances were of high repute within their 
own radius. Although Lady Newbury had not a little of 
the great lady about her, and was one with whom her equals 
never dreamed of taking a liberty, yet she was courtesy it- 
self to the minnows of her circle. Not only were the music 
and all the accessories of the entertainment carefully 
attended to, but the family generally looked after their 
guests. Lady Newbury countenanced no exclusiveness on 
the part of the house-party, such as is very apt to be the 
case upon these occasions, and honestly took some pains in 
the mixing of the social salad she had provided. 

Bessie Radley had been looking forward to this ball with 
impatience ever since they had received their invitations. 
She had as yet very little experience of such affairs, and this 
was the first time she had been asked to Derrington, and 
when she found that Harold Sedbergh was to be there, 
was quite excited about it. She had speculated a good deal 
upon what dancing young men she would be likely to meet, 
but had omitted him from the list. She liked Harold, and 
was perfectly aware that he admired her. No words of love 
had ever passed between them, and Bessie would very likely 
have strenuously denied that she cared for him in that way, 
but, for all that, their coming to some such understanding 
was eminently probable. Harold, who was six or seven 
years her senior, had made up his mind much more 
definitely on the subject. He thought Bessie the nicest and 
cleverest girl he knew, to say nothing of the prettiest, for that 
was matter-of-course, and had quite resolved to win her for 
his wife. That he was blessed with an extremely crotchety 
father, he had never given a thought, and that that very 
irascible gentleman would expect to be consulted about such 
an arrangement had not as yet crossed his mind. 

He was on the qui vive for Bessie’s arrival, and very pleased 
was the girl to meet him, as, accompanied by her father and 

2 


18 


A FAl^lLY FAlLlNO. 


mother, she entered the ball room. Her programnie w^s a,t 
once pounced upon, and Harold scribbled his name over it 
in the most unscrupulous way. 

“You can’t suppose, Mr. Sedbergh,’^ said Bessie, “that I 
can really give you all those dances. We should be the talk 
of the room. And think how dreadful that would be.” 

“ I don’t see that there would be much harm in it,” re- 
joined Harold. “ Why, what could they say ? ” 

“ Say I didn’t know anybody else, and that I was impos- 
ing upon your good nature.” 

“ Not much of that,” he replied. “You know I wouldn’t 
change my partner for the whole evening, if I could help 
it.” 

“You mustn’t talk nonsense, Mr. Sedbergh,” said Bessie 
demurely. “ Tell me what you have been doing with your- 
self all this time. I haven’t seen you for ever so long. Tell 
me what you all do here to amuse yourselves now's there 
no shooting or anything of that sort. Have you a jolly 
party ? ” 

“Very,” returned Harold. “Oh, we get through the 
time pleasantly enough. The Newburys are all full of go, 
you know. What with walking, and gossiping, a little 
music, and a little cards ” 

“ Ah,” said Bessie, in a low tone, “there’s a great deal of 
card-playing goes on, isn’t there ? I’ve heard papa say ” 

“We really must not lose this delicious valse,” exclaimed 
Harold abruptly, and without further protest he whirled off 
his companion, and thereby put a stop to her indiscreet 
remarks, which he feared might go further than she in- 
tended. They both valsed well, and to Bessie dancing with 
a good partner was such sheer enjoyment that she had no 
desire to abate it. However, when they stopped, she mani- 
fested quite as much curiosity as before, as to how they 
amused themselves, and was much interested when Harold 
described to her the afternoon’s match. She had never 
heard of such a thing, and was at first disposed to consider 
it a great feat on Harold’s part, until he explained to her 
that the conditions of the match prevented the horse ever 
thoroughly using his speed, and that it was, therefore, no 
such great achievement after all. 

Miss Radley really was a pretty girl, and as, with cheeks 


THE Ball, and whaT came of it. 


19 


slightly flushed with the exercise, and eyes sparkling with 
pleasure and excitement, she promenaded the room at the 
termination of the valse, she speedily attracted attention. 
She knew a sprinkling of the young men present, and 
others now sought an introduction ip her, and when 
Harold led her back to her mother’s side, he said laugh- 
ingly : 

‘‘ It’s well I was prompt in taking care of myself, for 
there’s hardly a dance left on your programme now.” 

There were many Kilmington people present, and these 
naturally noticed Bessie, some with pride, in thinking that 
a Kilmington girl could fairly dispute the palm of being the 
belle of the ball, while there were not wanting acidulated 
matrons, labouring under the delusion that their own geese 
were swans, who remarked with asperity how much Miss 
Radley danced with young Sedbergh, and expressed much 
thankfulness that their own girls never forgot themselves in 
that way. However, everything must have an end ; at last 
the doctor turned a deaf ear to Bessie’s pleadings for one 
more dance, and declared he would keep the horses waiting 
no longer. Harold saw her into a carriage, and as the girl 
leant back with closed eyes, she wondered whether all balls 
were as delightful as this had been, and then she thought 
of all Harold had said to her. If he had not told her he 
loved her in so many words, she had no doubt about it 
now, and was troubled with misgivings whether she loved 
him, and there her meditations were brusquely interrupted 
by her father’s calling upon her to give an account of her- 
self, and asking what Harold had been saying for himself. 
There was a good deal of Harold’s conversation which, 
however interesting she had found it, Bessie felt did not 
bear repetition, but she thought the account of the match 
would amuse her father, who, though he had heard of such 
matches, had never chanced to see one. 

“ I am very glad he won,” observed the doctor. “ Quite 
likely he wanted it. At all events, losing would have come 
expensive.” 

What do you mean, papa ? ” asked Bessie eagerly. 

“Why, you don’t suppose Captain Newbury makes 
matches for fun, do you ? You may be quite sure there 
was a pretty heavy bet on the event. It’s in the blood, 


20 


A FAMILY FAILING 


they all play in that family, and as for Jim Newbury, clever 
as he is, there's not a more inveterate gambler out. 
Harold's no fool, and has got his head screwed on the 
right way, but it's a dangerous house for any young man 
to frequent." 

Bessie made no reply, but resolved, the next time she 
saw him, to have a serious talk with her lover on this subject. 
She had perhaps rather hazy notions of what constituted 
gambling. She had a perfectly comfortable home, but had 
never been accustomed to see money treated with reckless 
indifference, and to play cards or lay wagers, except for 
nominal sums, she looked upon as radically wrong, if not 
wicked. 

Now there had been present at the Derrington ball a 
crusty old bachelor, named Shatterley. He owned a small 
property adjoining Enderby, and prided himself on his plain 
speaking, which means that he considered he had a license 
to be rude, and was habitually disagreeable. Why people 
asked him out was a mystery, and why he accepted their in- 
vitations was equally inexplicable. He went everywhere, 
but never seemed to derive the slightest pleasure from the 
entertainment. He was given to carping at most things, 
and unintentionally often made mischief. He was not 
curious about his neighbours' affairs, nor had he the 
slightest desire to meddle in them. It was not that he 
said mischievous things with malice prepense^ but he had a 
knack of blurting out things that he had much better have 
kept to himself. As Doctor Radley said, “ He's a man 
with nothing to do, of very limited ideas, and cursed with a 
flux of garrulity. He must talk, and as he has nothing to 
talk about, except the gossip he has picked up in the last 
two or three days, he pours it out pell-mell, without a 
thought as to whether it is palatable to his auditors or 
not." 

On the morning after the Derrington ball it occurred to 
Mr. Shatterley that it would be only neighbourly to go over 
and see Mr. Sedbergh. They had known each other for 
years, and though they had often quarrelled, had never 
come to a thorough break. He had not seen Ralph Sed- 
bergh for some time, it would amuse him to hear of all the 
proceedings at Derrington Park. 


THE BALL, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


21 


On arriving at Enderby and enquiring for the master of 
the house, he was at once informed that Mr. Se Ibergh was 
at home, and was ushered into the library. He found his 
host seated near a b’azing fire and facmg an open window, 
through which the boisterous March wind b’ew keenly. 

‘‘ How are you, Sedbergh ? said Mr. Shatterley. ‘‘Look- 
ing well I am glad to see, but, ahem — don't you call that 
window a little imprudent ?” 

Not a bit of it, not a bit of it. And I'm surprised that 
a clear-headed man like you doesn't at once recognise the 
mistake into which the artificial condition of life in which 
we live has led us. No wonder the confounded doctors 
make fortunes out of us. Here, at the healthiest time of the 
year, when all nature springs into life again, we shut our- 
selves up and breathe nothing but impurities, instead of the 
gloriously fresh air that Spring has brought us." 

“You may call it fresh air," said Shatterley, testily, “I 
call it an infernal draught. You'll excuse me if I keep my 
hat on," and, suiting his action to the word, Mr. Shatterley 
replaced that article and buttoned his overcoat up tightly. 

“ You're all wrong," replied the other. “ A fear of 
draughts is nothing but a dread of open windows. A 
rejecting of the tonic which nature beneficially bestows upon 
us at this period of the year." 

“Tonic ! beneficent nature ! beneficent bosh ! As I have 
just said, I can't afford to catch a devil of a cold because of 
your crotchets, so you'll excuse this," and, as he spoke, Mr. 
Shatterley jammed his hat still tighter on his head. 

Ralph Sedbergh nodded good-natured toleration of what 
he considered his visitor's whim, but it was characteristic of 
the man that he made no overture towards closing the 
window in compliance with it. 

“ Hate draughts," growled the other, “ dangerous things. 
Had to leave the ball-room at Herrington last night because 
some young fool opened the window." 

“ A man who opens windows is no fool," rejoined Ralph 
Sedbergh sharply. “ So you were at Herrington last night 
were you ? What sort of a dance was it ? " 

“ Oh, a decent frisk enough. I've seen better and I've 
seen worse. Champagne over-iced a bit for the time of 
year. Attendance at supper not quite what it might 


A FAMILY FAILING 




have been. Difficulty in getting what you wanted, you 
know. However I suppose the people enjoyed themselves. 
Harold looked as if he did, at all events.^ 

“ What ? Was Harold there ? ” 

“ Why of course he was,’^ rejoined Mr. Shatterley, looking 
at his host in surprise, for it had never occurred to him 
that Harold had come to the ball from anywhere but 
Enderby. 

“ Harold is not staying here just at present, nor is he in 
the habit of communicating his mo^ ements to me,” retorted 
Ralph with an iciness which his visitor attributed to the 
March wind, but which to those who knew him well 
betokened that his temper was rising, and might be shortly 
expected to culminate in a violent outburst. 

“ No, not very likely. You ( ould hardly expect him to 
fall in with your peculiar ideas.” And Shatterley jerked his 
head in the direction of the open window. “Well, he 
seemed to have been enjoying himself last night all the 
same.” 

Ralph Sedbergh was nettled that his son should be in the 
neighbourhood and not have paid him a visit, nor even 
acquainted him with the fact. Even Shatterley might have 
seen that he was getting angry, and detected the rising storm 
in his tones, as he said sharply “ So I daresay did a good 
many others. I don^t see why you so particularize Harold.” 

“ Because,” rejo ned the other, “when a young fellow goes 
in for a desperate flirtation with the prettiest girl in the 
room, a-^d dances half the night with her, I consider he’s 
having a better time than most of them. Pooh, Sedbergh, 
you needn’t look so grim about it, we’ve done it ourselves in 
our time, and I daresay the young ’uns of to-day feel pretty 
much as we did about it. At all events Bessie Radley is 
pretty enough for any young man to lose his head about. 
And so a good many of them seemed to think, but there’s 
no mistake about it, Harold was first favourite. I tell you 
what, Sedbergh, you’ll have him wanting your blessing and 
asking your consent and all the rest of it before you know 
where you are,” and Mr. Shatterley chuckled over his own 
joke. 

“ Damnation ! Do stop your confounded nonsense. How 
dare yoi insinuate anything so preposterous as that my son 


THE BALL, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

should dream of marrying Miss Radley. It^s not likely that 
Harold will think of marriage for some time yet, and when 
he does he’ll have to bear in mind that landed property is 
not what landed property was, and marry accordingly. He 
need not think to have my consent to bringing a portionless 
bride to Enderby.” 

“ Well, he isn’t asking yet, you know,” replied Mr. Shatter- 
ley. “ There’s no occasion for getting warm about it.” 

I never was cooler in my life,” replied Sedbergh, in tones 
that palpably contradicted the assertion. 

“ Well, I’m sure you ought to be. I am,” retorted Shatterley, 
as he rose, with a glance at the open window, to say good-bye. 
“ Good-bye. Don’t put yourself out about it. She mayn’t 
accept him, you know, after all.” 

He left the room quickly, for he was now quite alive to the 
signs of the gathering tempest. In fact, though he took no 
notice of it, Shatterley was not deaf to the furious malediction 
which burst from his host’s lips as the door closed upon him. 

He had not intended it, it had been done without a particle 
of malice, but he left Ralph Sedbergh half mad with passion, 
at the idea of Harold and Miss Radley being the talk of 
the country-side. As is not unusual with people who live 
much alone, he had a vivid, though morbid, imagination, 
and what Shatterley had dropped in mere idle gossip he con- 
cluded to be a thing accomplished, and that, utterly ignoring 
himself, his son had plighted his troth to a girl who would 
bring with her but a slender marriage portion. 


24 


A FAMILY FAILING. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE SEDBERGH TEMPER. 

Derrington was always a late house, and it is needless to 
say that where breakfast ended and luncheon began was 
a difficult point to determine. On the day after the 
ball Harold settled, while dressing, that the best thing to 
brace him up after his dissipation would be a good ride. 
That it was his bounden duty to go over and see his father, 
and then, well, he could ask for some tea at the Radleys 
on his way back. It was quite the proper thing to call 
upon one’s partners after a dance and see that they were 
none the worse for their exertions. I don’t know that it 
had ever occurred to Harold on any previous occasion, but it 
certainly struck him that a talk over the ball with Bessie 
would be great fun. 

As soon as he had had something to eat, Harold borrowed a 
hack, and, announcing to the few stragglers of the party who 
had as yet put in an appearance that he was going to ride 
over to Enderby, started on his errand. It was a lovely 
day, and what with the remembrances of the previous night 
and the exhilaration produced by his ride, Harold was in 
the highest spirits when he pulled up at the Hall and sent 
his horse round to the stables. Though aware of his last 
craze, he had no fear of quarrelling with his father over it. 
He could not think it prudent, but to persuade him out of 
one of his whims was, he knew, hopeless, while as far as he 
was concerned there was not much in enduring a superfluity 
of fresh air for an hour. There was never much effusion 
when he and his father met, but Harold knew him much 
too well not to detect that his greeting was ominous, and 
the rather sneering commentary on his tardy visit, that it 
looked as if he had forgotten his way to Enderby, gave no 
promise of a pleasant talk between the two. 

“I’ve only beenv three or four days at Derrington, and 
one can’t quite do what one likes when staying with friends.” 

“ I’m quite aware of that,” said Mr. Sedbergh, “ and the 


THE SEDBERGH TEMPER. 


25 


chief diversion practised at Derrington is well known. 
YouVe played of course ? 

“ Tve done what other people did. You can’t stay in a 
house and not take your part in what’s going on.” 

‘‘ Don’t talk such nonsense as that,” exclaimed Mr. 
Sedbergh. ‘‘Bear in mind that the Newburys are rich. 
What is mere amusement to them is destruction to you. I 
make you an allowance suitable to your position, but I 
don’t consider high play at all necessary to it.” 

“ Nor have you any right to look on me as addicted to it,” 
said Harold, indignantly. 

“ Don’t interrupt me, sir,” continued his father vehemently. 
“ Don’t expect me to come to your aid if you find it a costly 
visit.” 

“ It would have been time enough to tell me so when I 
asked your assistance,” rejoined Harold. “ If I have been 
slow to come over and see you, it would have been well 
perhaps if I had been still slower.” 

“ Keep your gibes to yourself, sir. Regard for a father’s 
wishes is out of date now-a-days I know, but,” continued 
Mr. Sedbergh with a bitter laugh, “ as long as he holds the 
key of the cash-box a son is not beyond his control. Not 
content with gambling, you’ve been making yourself con- 
spicuous, I’m told, with that ass Radley’s daughter, becoming 
the talk of the county, and otherwise making a fool of 
yourself.” 

“ I’m not aware,” rejoined Harold, sternly “ that I have 
made a fool of myself with any lady. If you have been 
told that I admire Miss Radley, and danced with her a 
good deal last night, it is perfectly true.” 

“ And what business, pray,” fairly screamed the elder 
man, now almost beside himself with passion, “ have you 
to be flirting with a penniless girl like her? Don’t you 
know that the rental of Enderby has been reduced a 
third.” 

“D n the Enderby rental,” hotly rejoined Harold, 

“you’ll be good enough to refrain from saying anything 
against Miss Radley in future. I’ve a great admiration for 
that young lady.” 

“ By Heavens 1 the idiot means to marry her,” roared 
Mr. Sedbergh.” 


26 


A FAMILY FAILING. 


“ Most certainly/^ replied Harold, recovering his compo- 
sure, “ if she will do me the honour to accept me/’ 

He already regretted his momentary loss of temper. 
Mastering his rage by a violent effort, Mr, Sedbergh 
retorted with marked coldness and studied sarcasm : 

I have told you of my diminished income, and heard 
your courteous comment on the subject. As you intend to 
pay no regard to my wishes, I shall reduce your own 
allowance in the same proportion, and on the day you 
marry Miss Radley it will cease altogether. There is no 
obligation on my part to keep an additional pauper, nor has 
any man a right to marry until he is in a position to support 
a wife by his own exertions. Shall I ring for your horse ? ” 
“Thank you, no. I can find my way to the stables. It 
won’t be my fault if I don’t marry Bessie Radley, though I 
have yet to learn how to keep her. Good-bye, father,” and 
Harold half stretched out his hand. 

“Good-bye,” said Mr. Sedbergh, with an almost cere- 
monious nod, and entirely overlooking his son’s advance. 
Another moment, and Harold was gone, and having obtained 
his horse, was quickly on his way to Kilmington. 

Well, he had put his foot in it now, and no mistake. 
The Doctor was certainly right, the less he saw of his father 
the better; and yet, was he to blame? He regretted that, 
even for a moment, he should have lost his temper, but to 
hear the girl you are in love with unjustly abused would 
try most men. 

It was certainly not he who had provoked his father’s pas- 
sion in the first instance. The frame of mind in which he had 
found him was due to something else, and not to any indis- 
cretion on his own part. Well, he was not going to give up 
Bessie, though how on earth he was ever to marry her he 
most certainly, at that moment, couldn’t see. The reducing 
of his allowance, too, was most inopportune just now, but 
he did not feel much concern about that, looking upon it as 
an ebullition of his father’s wrath not likely to be really 
put in practice. One thing seemed clear to him, and that 
was he must at once tell Dr. Radley what had passed. In 
spite of the contemptuous expression his father had applied 
to him, Harold knew that he had a great regard for the 
doctor. Under the influence of his continual and varied 


THE SEDBERGH TEMPER. 


27 


whims he would call him a charlatan, and so on ; he declined 
to take his physic, but the doctor always declared that he 
neither wanted his nor anyone else^s, that he was in 
excellent health, and that he, the doctor, did not profess to 
prescribe for irritability of temper. 

Arrived in Kilmington, Harold made his way at once to 
the doctor's house, and there Bessie's bright welcome and 
lively prattle over the events of the preceding evening 
made him temporarily forget the breach with his father and 
all the awkward consequences attendant upon it. Bessie 
never looked j)rettier, and declared more than once that she 
never expected to have such a glorious dance again as she 
had at Derrington, at which Harold laughed, and prophesied 
that there were many yet before her, adding : 

‘‘ I'm sure I hope so, for we really were just beginning 
to get thoroughly into each other’s step." 

‘‘Oh, Mr. Sedbergh," replied the girl laughing, “con- 
sidering all the dances I gave you, one of us must be very 
stupid, and nobody, I trust, can suppose it's me." 

“ Oh, no," replied Harold. “ I can only say in excuse 
that given opportunity I have great powers of application." 

“ I hope the opportunity will come before long," she 
returned, “ but you mustn't always expect to monopolise 
as much of my programme as you did this time." 

With this and similar badinage, the time passed gaily 
enough until, about six, the doctor joined the circle, and 
soon after he made his appearance Sedbergh rose and 
declared it was time he was on his way back to Derrington. 
He wished the ladies good bye, and as the doctor accom- 
panied him to the door said, “ I want to have a few words 
with you." 

“ Come in here, then," was the reply, and the master of 
the house led the way to his own peculiar sanctum. 

“You always warned me not to quarrel with my father," 
said Harold. ‘' I've done it at last in real earnest, although 
it’s not altogether my fault." 

“Tell me all about it," was the laconic rejoinder. And 
without further preface Harold gave an accurate narration 
of his interview with Mr. Sedbergh. 

The doctor listened with the greatest attention, but when 
the speaker came to his declaration of his loye for Bessie 


28 


A FAMILY FAILING, 


and determination to marry her, the doctor’s countenance 
exhibited marked signs of perturbation, and when Harold 
wound up by begging his consent to win Bessie if he could, 
his auditor stopped him abruptly. 

“ My dear Harold,” he said, gently but decidedly, ‘‘ Fve 
known you from a boy, and I like you better than any 
young fellow I ever met. I know you’re a straightforward, 
good sort, and I’d sooner give you Bessie than anyone, 
but, my dear boy, it can’t be, it’s an impossibility, you 
must put the thing out of your head altogether. You’ve 
not spoken to my girl yet, I hope ? I’m very sorry for you, 
but I must think of Bessie too ; even if you’ve not spoken 
out, it’s not likely that things have come to this pass between 
you without her making a pretty good guess at the state of 
your feelings, and when that’s the case it’s difficult to say 
how far a girl is entangled herself. I cannot explain to you 
my reasons just now, you’ve taken me rather aback, and I 
must think it all over, and shall possibly decide then that 
it is best to say nothing further than that it cannot be. I am 
very sorry, but I had no suspicions of anything of the sort 
’ — no, no, don’t say anything more,” he continued, as Harold 
was about to utter a vehement protest against such a 
summary dismissal. “ Good-bye, and God bless you,” and 
the doctor shook hands and opened the door and shewed 
so conclusively that their interview was over that Harold 
had nothing for it but to take his departure and reflect 
ruefully over what a good afternoon’s work he had done. 
However, at four-and-twenty our spirits soon recover their 
elasticity, and though the party generally seemed suffering 
slightly from reaction attendant on the last night’s revel when 
they sat down to dinner, before that meal was half over the 
jest was once more upon laughing lips and none of the con- 
vives were gayer than Harold Sedbergh. The usual round 
game took place in the drawing-room, and this time his 
usual good luck seemed to have deserted him. 

“Ah, Mr. Sedbergh,” cried Miss Newbury, as, thanks to 
an almost Nap hand, she swept the board, “you can’t 
expect fortune always to favour you. You had your 
innings yesterday, when you beat us at racing in the after- 
noon and monopolised the prettiest girl in the room all the 
evening.” 


THE SEDBERaH TEMPER. 


29 


I don^t complain,” he rejoined. “ As you say, I'd a good 
time yesterday, though Fm finding it a bit stormy to-day.” 

But Harold had yet to discover how strong the tide can 
run when it once sets dead against you. Though his losses 
in the drawing-room would have been thought considerable 
by people not habituated to card-playing on the scale of 
Herrington, he could not help wondering, as he exchanged 
a dress coat for a smoking jacket, whether it was the 
presage of worse to come in the smoking-room. Should 
he refuse to play? He did not quite like to do that, 
although he had practically come to the end of his ready 
money. Notwithstanding the hundred won on the match, 
he still owed Jim Newbury and one of the other men a good 
bit over the Poker. 

‘‘I may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb,” he 
muttered, as he descended the stairs and entered the room. 
The others were already there, and, as he anticipated, Jim's 
first remark was : 

“ Come along, Sedbergh, you're leaving us to-morrow, 
and must have a last flutter, you know, you’ll most probably 
win all your money back to-night ; got through your bad 
luck in the other room, you know.” 

However, a black day it had been from the commence- 
ment, and a black PTiday it was destined to remain for 
Harold Sedbergh until his head touched his pillow. The 
cards went against him persistently all through the evening, 
and when he totted up his losings before rising from the 
poker-table, he found he was indebted to his companions to 
the tune of over four hundred pounds. A debt which 
admitted of no delay in payment, but which must be 
settled in the course of two or three days. A problem 
this that has puzzled stupider heads than Harold Sed- 
bergh's. 


30 


A FAMILY FAILING. 


CHAPTER V. 

PAYING FOR PLEASURE. 

When Harold awoke at his own rooms in London on the 
following Monday, the first thing that flashevi across him 
was that the money that he had lost at Derrington had to 
be obtained somewhere before the post went out. It was a 
bore ; he half wished he had never gone to Derrington, and 
yet that ball was a bright sunny spot that made up for all 
the disasters of the week:. He was not in the least a saint, 
but he was not at all addicted to gambling, nor had he 
hitherto ever indulged in heavy betting or high play. He 
had known what it was to be temporarily hard up — who in 
his golden youth has not ? — but he had never had to under- 
take a financial operation before. He was no fool, and had 
not the slightest intention of putting himself into the clutches 
of the nearest money-lender. He would go down and 
consult the family solicitors. They would surely make no 
difficulty in finding the heir of Enderby five hundred 
pounds. When he arrived at the offices of Messrs. Penge 
and Carboy, he was, as usual, ushered into a comfortless 
apartment, requested to take 3 , chair and the newspaper, 
and informed that Mr. Carboy would be at leisure and see 
him in a few minutes. After he had studied the paper for a 
little with that utter want of interest characteristic of a man 
who has come to see his solicitor on the subject of raising 
money, the clerk informed him that Mr. Carboy was ready 
to see him. That gentleman rose from his desk as his 
visitor entered his room, shook hands with him, and 
enquired in jocular tones what had brought Mr. Harold 
down to their dingy old den. Harold at once explained 
his errand. 

“No difficulty about that, sir,^’ said the lawyer. “ We can 
find you a client who will be very glad to let you have the 
money at five per cent, on the security of Enderby. 
Excuse me for one moment. 111 just step into the next 
room and see Penge, he has always had the more immediate 
management of your family affairs."' 


J^AYING J'OR Pleasure, 


SI 


Mr. Carboy was absent for afew minutes, and when he 
came back, he said : 

“ I am sorry to say this little transaction is not quite so 
simple as I had hoped. Pray don’t think it cannot be 
managed, but it will involve a little more delay and be a 
more expensive business than I gave you to suppose. If 
you‘11 jiist step across into Mr. Penge’s room, he will ex- 
plain the state of the case to you.” 

Mr. Penge, a portl}^, pleasant-looking gentleman, rose on 
their appearance, and at once plunged in medias res, 

Mr. Sedbergh,” he said, “ unless you have good reasons 
for the contrary, I should recommend you at once to ac- 
quaint your father that you wish to borrow this money, and 
bring us a line from him, consenting to your doing so.’’ 

“In fact,” said Harold, “a guarantee that he will be 
responsible for the money should anything happen to me.” 

“ Well, yes, that’s about what it amounts to,” said the 
lawyer blandly. 

“ No,” said Harold, “ I would rather insure my life.” 

“ Ah, I’m afraid,” replied Mr. Penge, “ that would hardly 
meet the case.” 

“ Well, to cut a long story short,” cried Harold impa- 
tiently, “ I’ve quarrelled with my father, and don’t wish to 
say anything to him about this for the present.” 

“ Dear me, dear me,” said Mr. Penge, rubbing his hands 
softly. “ It’s a great pity, but it’s quite a family failing, Mr. 
Harold, excuse my saying so. The Sedberghs always do 
qua’-rcl with their fathers.” 

“ What the deuce do you mean ? ” 

“ Well, the fact is,” rejoined the lawyer, “that’s just what 
your father did. He quarrelled with your grandfather.” 

“ I can q^sily understand his quarrelling with anybody,” 
said Harold, but I haven’t time to listen to family gossip. 
Can you let me have this five hundred to-day, or must I 
wait till to-morrow ? ” 

“ My dear sir,” said Mr. Penge, “ the whole thing hangs 
upon what you call family gossip. Your father, when a 
young man, like yourself, became in want of money. He 
lived a very different life in those days from that you always 
remember. To facilitate borrowing it, like yourself again, 
he quarrelled with his father.” 


32 


A family failing. 


‘‘ Good heavens, Mr. Penge, what has all this to do with 
me ? 

“ Everything, if you will only listen,^’ replied the lawyer. 
“It came to your grandfather’s ears, and he offered to find 
it upon one condition/' 

Harold nodded. 

“ And that was that your father should join with him in 
cutting the entail." 

Harold looked at him uneasily, but his eyes were still not 
quite open to the real state of the case. 

“As you know, in the event it made no difference to him. 
In due course he inherited Enderby — but by will. The 
entail has never been renewed." 

“ Do you mean to tell me, then, that I am not heir to 
Enderby ? " 

“ That will depend to whom your father thinks proper to 
leave it." 

“ I understand," said Harold, speaking rapidly. “ I must 
have this five hundred pounds. It’s a play debt, and does 
not admit of delay, but there will be a difficulty about it." 

“No doubt," replied Mr. Penge. “You see you’ve 
virtually no security to offer. It’s true that in course of 
time you will probably come into Enderby, but it does not 
necessarily follow. Your father can leave the property 
where he pleases, and people who lend money are not con- 
tented with probabilities. In short, only I see by the 
marriage settlement that the residue of your mother’s for- 
tune comes to you at your father’s death, I should see no 
prospect of borrowing it whatever." 

“ The residue ! ’’ exclaimed Harold. “ How comes there 
to be a residue?" 

“When the entail was cut, and your .grandfather 
advanced the sum your father required, it was raised on 
mortgage over part of Enderby. On your father’s marriage 
your mother’s money went to pay off that mortgage, and 
what little was left after doing so became your father’s for 
life, and then reverted to her children, in this case, your- 
self. What that residue amounts to I have not had time to 
ascertain, though it would doubtless be sufficient for your 
purpose. Still all this will involve delay." 

“ Which is just what I can’t afford," interrupted Harold, 


PAYING FOR PLEASURE. 


33 


‘‘ Do the best you can for me, Mr. Penge, and in the mean- 
time I must temporarily borrow the money somewhere 
else/^ 

“ Pray don’t do anything rash,” cried the lawyer. “ We 
shall manage this business for you in a week or ten days,” 
but Harold had nodded his adieux, and was already on the 
stairs before Mr. Penge had finished speaking. 

He walked moodily across Leicester Square, pondering, 
as no doubt many another has done before him, how he was 
to borrow this money. At last he resolved to go to his club, 
and take counsel with one or two of his intimates. It was 
about lunch time, and he would be pretty sure to catch 
them there. He had one friend in particular, whom he 
suspected to have had much experience of direful settling 
days, and the raising of moneys at short notice. As he 
entered the hall, a letter was put into his hands, one of 
those letters of which I am afraid young gentlemen in his 
position have but little experience. It was from Doctor 
Radley, and couched in the kindest possible terms. He 
reiterated what he had said at Kilmington, that there were 
reasons which rendered it impossible for him to consent to 
Harold’s engagement with his daughter, and by the light of 
his interview with Messrs. Penge and Carboy, Harold began 
to have some glimmering of the real state of the case, and 
guessed that the doctor was aware that Enderby was not 
entailed, and that a marriage with his daughter would very 
likely determine Ralph Sedbergh to alienate the property 
from his son. But it was in the concluding lines that 
Harold recognised the doctor’s delicacy and the honesty of 
his words. 

‘‘And now, my dear boy, to wind up,” he wrote, “you’ve 
quarrelled with your father, and it may be at a very awkward 
juncture. You are no gambler, but I know what a week at 
Derrington means. I hope it fared well with you, but if the 
reverse, there is no one you should come to sooner than 
your old triend.” 

This solution of the problem was too tempting to be re- 
jected. He had clearly understood Penge that he would be 
able to find him this money without fail in the course of a 

3 


A FAMILY 


:4 

fortnight. There could be no harm in accepting this help 
from so old a friend, and though perhaps borrowing a con- 
siderable sum from one’s proposed father-in-law could be 
hardly deemed likely to recommend one in his sight, yet 
Harold resolved to write at once, and gratefully accept the 
doctor’s offer. 

But when this immediate difficulty was disposed of, 
and Harold began to reflect upon what he had heard in Lin- 
coln’s Inn Fields, he felt very much like a man who is 
suddenly reduced to beggary. He had looked upon him- 
self as the undoubted heir to a property worth a good three 
thousand a year. He was nothing of the sort, he had no 
more than such claim as every son has upon his father to 
inherit some of that worldly gear that he must perforce 
leave behind him ; the inalienable right that he had believed 
himself to possess did not exist, his chance was at the dis- 
posal of a violent-tempered, whimsical man, with whom he 
had quarrelled ; standing in what he had deemed his rightful 
position, he looked upon it that, differ as they might, his 
father could not refuse him a suitable allowance. His father 
had just informed him that he not only could but should, if 
he ran contrary to his wishes on the subject of marriage. 
Then Harold became conscious of having been treated 
with great injustice. Placed as he was, it was shameful that 
he had been brought up to no profession. Like many other 
young men of his class, he had shown no particular desire 
to earn his own living, but then it must be remembered he 
was ignorant how very necessary it might be that he shopld 
do so. He really had wished to enter the Army, but his 
father, after his first failure to pass the examination, had 
thrown cold water on it, swayed a little perhaps by the fiasco 
in which Captain John’s military career had terminated. He 
was too old now for that, and in what way he was to earn a 
living Harold at present had not an idea. His blood was 
up now, and if he was to inherit nothing else he had, at all 
events, come in for a strong dash of the family temper. He 
would not give up Bessie, he would not cringe to his father, 
nor be beholden to him an hour longer than he could help. 
He must get something to do at once, he didn’t know what, 
work of some sort, and he had misgivings that he did not 
like work. The remuneration, in the first instance, was not 


f^AYIN(^ Mn tLEASURfi. 


85 


rkely to be great — he had never had occasion to live upon 
very small means, and he was afraid that he was not clever 
in making a little money go a long way, but he meant to do 
it, and after turning all these things over in his own mind, 
he came to the conclusion that he had better talk things 
over with his Uncle Aleck. He could put him in the way 
of earning his own living if anybody in London could. 

Poor Harold, he had yet to learn that is the most puzzling 
question you can put to your friends. Tell them what you 
want to do, and the chances are they can help you, but the 
other is a vague interrogation which a man himself is best 
qualified to answer. 

So his luncheon finished, Sedbergh started off, and after 
the accustomed hunt, succeeded in running his Uncle Aleck 
to earth. Pie told his story, to which his uncle listened 
quite as attentively as Dr. Radley, and when he had finished, 
said : 

“ You ask me what you are to do; neither go to Enderby 
nor write to your father for the next few weeks, and, above 
all, keep clear of Kilmmgton. Radley^s a very good fellow 
and seems to have behaved very well about the whole thing. 
Miss Radley, no doubt, is a very charming girl, though IVe 
not seen her since she was a child, but look here. Master 
Harold, Ralph’s a little queer-tempered, I grant you, well a 
good deal more than a little if you like, but you couldn’t 
expect him to be delighted at the idea of such a marriage as 
that. He’s got a pretty tall opinion of the Sedberghs 
generally. He thinks we are regular swells, and looked for- 
ward, hazily no doubt, to your making a very swell marriage. 
You found him with his bristles all up, and by Jove, you 
seem to have combed him down the wrong way. VVell, 
you must just lie low, keep quiet, and trust to time.” 

‘‘ I will never give up Bessie Radley,” replied Harold 
hotly. 

‘‘ My dear boy. Who wants you to? You can’t marry 
her now, for the best of all reasons — you’ve nothing to live 
upon. You must temporise, wait upon events, wait for the 
turn of the tide. There’s the pull of your age. You can 
afford to do it.” 

‘‘ Uncle Aleck, did you know the entail had been cut ?” 

“Yes, of course; that came out at your grandfather’s 

3 * 


A J'AMlLY FAILING. 


36 

death. And very much astonished John’and I were when 
we heard his will read.” 

“ It was cruel to have brought me up to do nothing, and 
in ignorance of it.” 

“Yes, it was wrong,*' rejoined his uncle, “but it certainly 
was not the place of either John or me to interfere between 
your father and yourself.” 

“ As I tell you, I wish to be dependent on him no longer. 
What am I to do ? ” 

“Now my dear Harold, don’t talk nonsense. The first 
question that suggests itself is, what can you do? How to 
earn a living is not to be settled off-hand in the sort of way 
you call a Hansom. Why even if you had the chalks, and I 
recommended an eligible pavement, I don’t suppose you 
could draw a mackerel. Now don’t look so glum over it, 
give me a few days to think about it, and I shall perhaps be 
able to put you in the way of doing something. It would 
brace you up and do you good, anyhow, and, at all events, 
remember my advice, keep quiet.” 

And so saying, Aleck Sedbergh shook his nephew heartily 
by the hand and bustled off. 


CHAPTER VL 

MAKING A REPUTATION. 

One thing that rather surprised Harold, and which at first 
he could not understand, was the springing up of quite a 
little crop of invitations to houses of which before he had 
had no knowledge, and with the owners of which he had 
either no or very slight acquaintance. It was quickly 
patent to him that the whole of this little coterie w^ere 
given to card-playing, more or less ; they did not habitually 
play for such stakes as were customary at Herrington, but 
for all that, it was quite possible to lose a tidy bit of money 
in those pleasant drawing-rooms, where they played whist 
from afternoon tea till dinner-time, and indulged in a round 
gime sometimes in the evening. One or two tickets for 
bachelor supper-parties also reached him, and at those there 
was little disguise about the unholy rites destined to 


Mailing A KilPutA'rioN. 


37 


succeed the repast. It was not to be supposed that it took 
Harold Sedbergh long to understand the situation. In 
that short week in the country, he had built for himself the 
reputation of a gambler. He was recognised as one of the 
Herrington lot, which was synonymous with being addicted 
to high play, and made admission easy to any place in 
which Its votaries were gathered together. Now, though 
the reverse may be difficult to obtain, an evil reputation in 
London, or, for the matter of that, anywhere else, is easy. 
Let it be only confidently asserted for two or three weeks 
that you have been concerned in a brutal murder, and you 
will find the reputation cling to you for years afterwards. 
It is of no use that the crime never was proved against you, 
it was said of you, and people seldom forget that, though 
they rarely qualify it with the addenda “ and falsely too.” 
Harold Sedbergh had unfortunately obtained the character 
of being one of the Herrington lot, and, though he stead- 
fastly declined to touch a card, and dropped the houses 
where it was expected of him as quickly as he well could, 
it was little good as far as his reputation went. His friends 
and acquaintances were firmly impressed with the belief 
that he passed most of his time at the card-table. 

In these days of rail and telegraph, the gossip of the 
metropolis soon filters down to the country, more especially 
to the locality in which the individual lives whom it may 
happen to concern. Kilmington was within an easy distance 
of town, and the current report of Harold's presumed mis- 
deeds was not long in reaching it. We know what rumour 
already said about .Herrington Park, and his having been a 
visitor there only made them more prone to believe this of 
him. Even his staunch friend. Hr. Radley, was staggered, 
and shook his head, as he thought sorrowfully that the 
temptation had proved too strong. He had tasted blo6d, 
and the fatal fever now filled his veins. That Harold 
should have quarrelled with his father was bad enough, 
but should the news of his present life reach the latter’s 
ears, the doctor felt that the breach between them would 
indeed be past repairing. He did not as yet understand 
how wide that breach was, for though Harold had given a 
fairly accurate version of the scene that had taken place 
between him and his progenitor, he had naturally said 


38 


A Family failing. 


nothing of the menace of the latter, should he dare to 
marry Bessie, to Bessie’s father. Without Ralph Sedbergh’s 
cordial assent, Dr. Radley regarded Harold’s maiiiage with 
his daughter as an impossibility. It would simply mean 
ruin and unutterable misery to both of them. He knew 
what a vindictive man his old friend was in his wrath, and 
to trust to a man like Ralph Sedbergh’s relenting was a 
thing for which the doctor had no stomach. But if it had 
been an impossibility before, it had become still more so 
now. Putting everything else on one side, he would never 
consent to his daughter marrying a gambler, and then he 
thought to himself there was one chance for Harold. The 
end of that madness could not be far off, owing to his 
limited resources. The doctor thought it best to say 
nothing to Bessie about her penchant for young Sedbergh. 
If the flirtation between them had been pretty marked, 
Harold, he knew, had not actually spoken of his love. He 
was not likely to be sedh in those parts for some time, and 
it was best to leave such feelings to die away of their own 
accord, but that they had not as yet done so he was un- 
pleasantly reminded that evening, after dinner, when he 
happened to mention the Kilmington gossip to his wife. 

“ It’s a terrible pity,” he said, “ to see a nice young 
fellow like that go pell-mell to the dogs. The best thing 
that can happen to him now, is to be utterly ruined as 
quick as may be. His gambling associates will drop him 
then, and he will perhaps turn over a new leaf.” 

“ I don’t believe a word of it, papa,” chimed in a clear, 
young voice from the other side of the table, in tones that 
trembled slightly with indignation. *• People have no right 
to say such things. I don’t believe Mr. Sedbergh does 
anything of the kind. He made and won an extraordinary 
match at Derrington, but I don’t believe he played cards 
there.” 

The doctor looked at her for a moment, and then gave 
vent to a low whistle. 

‘‘ Then all I can say is,” he replied at length, “ that 
Derrington is the most maligned house, and Bessie Radley 
the most credulous young woman, in the county.” 

“ I have my own opinion,” replied that young lady 
defiantly. “The Kilmington people are nasty, malicious 


MAKING A REPUTATION. 


89 


wretches, and always have been. Next time I see Mr 
Sedbergh, Til ask him the truth.’^ 

The doctor and his wife exchanged glances. Mrs. T^adley 
had not been altogether blind to what had been going on, 
but her husband had given her to understand that Harold’s 
last had been a farewell visit, and that it was as well that he 
should come there no more. She had acquiesced in her 
lord’s decision, although he declined to tell her more than 
that he had good and sufficient reasons. She was disap- 
pointed herself as, apart from liking Harold himself, she 
held that the young heir of Enderby would be a very fitting 
mate for Bessie. She did not possess the doctor’s know- 
ledge of Harold’s title in that respect. 

But though his sweetheart might believe him, young 
Sedbergh could scarcely credit himself how the news of his 
Herrington esc pade had spread, and how its results had 
been exaggerated. He had hardly realised the evil reputa- 
tion he had achieved, until he one day ran across his uncle 
John, hobbling up Pall Mall. The Captain was in his 
sweetest temper, just recovering from a bout of his old 
enemy, and contemplating his fellows with benignant eyes. 

“ Ha, Harold ! ’’ he said, “ I haven’t seen you for ages. 
Been laid up you see,” he continued, pointing to his gouty 
shoe. “Never see anybody then but Phillips, my fellow, 
you know. Great mistake to see anybody who can swear 
back at you when you’ve got the family complaint. Phillips 
only charges it in his book. I tell you what my boy, I 
don’t like the account I hear of you.” 

“ I don’t know what you mean. I don’t know what you’ve 
heard.” 

“Pooh, stuff and nonsense ! You know what I mean well 
enough, but I tell you, Harold, it won’t do ; your governor’s 
not the man to stand that sort of thing ; besides you’ll only 
go to the devil if he would.” 

“ I suppose the long and short of all this is you’ve heard 
I’ve stayed at Herrington ? ” 

“ Of course I have. We all know what that means. 
House where they keep a roulette board in the drawing 
room, and play chicken-hazard all night over their cigars. 
Old Billy Pouncett told me ail about it.” 

“And a good many lies to boot/^ said the young man 


40 


A FAMILY FAILING. 


indignantly. “ They play cards rather high at Derrington, 
ril admit.” 

“Should think they did,” said Captain John. “And 
youVe developed a taste that way. Wouldn’t have been 
asked to Derrington if you hadn’t. Now just take my 
advice, cut it.” 

“ I tell you I played cards at Derrington and lost my 
money, and there’s an end of it.” 

“ Oh, yes, I know, put it that way if you like. The 
Newburys always do. Won a running match for a monkey 
didn’t you ? Ah, Billy Pouncett told me all about it. 
Quite right, though, quite right, to keep such little games 
to yourself. Still they do get talked about you know, and 
I say emphatically, Harold, my boy, as an uncle very fond 
of you, cut it. I don’t want to preach, but take my advice, 
cut it, before it cuts you. Good-bye. Haven’t time to 
talk any more, been starved for the last fortnight, and have 
got a doosid healthy appetite to attend to. Once more 
good-bye.” And Captain John hobbled off in pursuit of 
luncheon, and a special brand of Burgundy that he much 
affected. 

“Cut it,” muttered Harold viciously, “I think I’ll begin 
by cutting him, and as for old Billy Pouncett, I don’t 
know him, but d — n him, at hazard. It really is provoking. 
Of all the unlucky visits a poor beggar ever paid, none 
could have been worse than mine to Derrington. Hand- 
somely cleaned out, first-class quarrel with the governor, 
and threatened with the loss of the only girl I care about. 
Everybody apparently thoroughly convinced that I have 
had a passion for cards from my very cradle. I suppose 
they’ll say next whenever I am seen on a railway, that I am 
working the three card trick.” And Harold indulged in 
that cynical laughter man is wont to, when the world is 
going against him. 

Bessie was very unhappy. If no actual declaration of 
love had been made by Harold, a very good understanding 
existed between them on that point, and the girl had very 
little doubt of having that whispered in her ear before long. 
She must get at the truth of all this. She felt convinced 
that more had happened than she was aware of. As for 
Kilmington people, they always did talk. She did not 


MAKING A KEPQTATION. 


41 


believe that Harold had gambled at Derrington, but even if 
he had, how could he help it ? 

Was it not notorious that they always did play there ? 
And how could a man stay in a house and not take part in 
all that was going on ? The Kilmington people were very 
glad to go to balls or dances at Derrington whenever they 
were asked; they didn’t taboo the Newburys, they didn’t 
raise their voices and protest against their iniquities. Why 
then all this outcry against Harold ? She was sure there 
was something else. She had caught her father and mother 
upon two or three occasions lately looking at her, and then 
exchanging significant glances, when the conversation had 
happened to turn upon the doings of the Sedberghs, father 
or son. She was far too high-spirited a girl to rhake a moan 
over her troubles, but the first thing towards facing them 
was to come to a proper understanding of what they were, 
and she had divined intuitively that for some reason or 
other she would not see Harold again for some time. She 
must know that reason, and she set to work to insidiously 
cross-examine her father and mother. The former, as she 
might have guessed, proved as difficult to crack as a Brazil 
nut. The doctor had at all events thoroughly learnt one 
valuable qualification of his profession, the keeping of a 
close mouth, and from him she extracted nothing. But with 
her mother it was different. She speedily learnt from her 
that a quarrel had taken place between Harold and his 
father, and would have been doubtless further enlightened 
about the particulars thereof, had Mrs. Radley known them, 
but these, as well as Harold’s proposal for her hand, the 
doctor had kept to himself. 

Bessie was fain to admit that her investigations so far had 
resulted in nothing. Closely as she pressed her mother as 
to what had led to that quarrel, for the above reasons Mrs. 
Radley could tell her nothing. ‘‘ What good would it do 
you to know ? What could you do if you did ? ” cried that 
lady in extreme weariness at the close cross-examination to 
which she was subjected. 

“ Help Harold,” was the girl’s prompt reply, though had 
she been in full possession of all the circumstances, it 
would have puzzled Bessie to say in what way she could do 
§0. As it was she felt bound to confess that there was 


42 


A FAMILY FAILING. 


nothing for it but to wait, hope for better times, and stand 
up for her lover in the face of all Kilmington if necessary. 
Ah, if only he was her avowed lover, how sweet it would 
be to make his quarrels her own, and do that. How much 
she had to do with Harold’s quarrel with his father she 
was not destined to know for some time yet. 

Harold Sedbergh did indeed want help just now, though 
not such help as Bessie could possibly afford him. He 
was very despondent about the aspect of his affairs, and 
rather irritable in his temper in consequence. He had 
heard nothing from his Uncle Aleck, and was now aware 
that his finding something to do was by no means easy of 
achievement, nor likely to be facilitated by having earned, 
however unjustly, the reputation of a gambler. That 
terrible question of his uncle’s was for ever ringing in his ears, 
“ What can you do ? ” and he was sadly obliged to confess to 
himself — nothing. He had had a good education, of which 
he had taken fair advantage, but he had been brought up to 
do nothing. He was in no pecuniary distress, and although 
Messrs. Penge and Carboy had not as yet found him that 
money with which to repay the doctor, they had assured 
him, in spite of the unexpected delay, that he would 
certainly receive it before long, but regretted to inform him 
that the remnant of his mother’s fortune was less than they 
had supposed. Still, Harold knew his father’s temper too 
well to suppose that he would not do what he threatened ; 
that his allowance would be forthwith reduced he never 
questioned, and that his marriage with Bessie would be 
the signal for his disinheritance he never doubted. It was 
well, he thought, that Mr. Sedbergh never came to London, 
for if this unlucky reputation, which had been so unfairly 
thrust upon him, should come to his ears, there was no 
saying what harm it might do him ; as it was, in the 
seclusion of Enderby, a seclusion much increased by his 
eccentric habits, Mr. Sedbergh was not likely to hear of it. 

“ If I’d only a Puritan relation or two to improve the 
occasion and talk about the danger of touching pitch, etc., 
it would be complete ; as it is, I seem to have gone Nap 
with a vengeance; as far as my experience goes, having 
once soiled your fingers, you may as well thrust youy 
whole hand into the cauldroq,” 


BESSIE’S BlSCOVERy. 


43 


CHAPTER VIL 
Bessie's discovery. 

Among the guests at Derrington, during the ball week, had 
been a Mr. Philip Lumsden. He was rather an intimate 
friend of Jim Newbury's, they having one common bond 
between them, to wit, a passionate love of high play. Phil 
Lumsden, as he was usually called, was a City man, which, 
being interpreted, meant that he was a daring speculator on 
the Stock Exchange. When a man is that, he thinks little 
of high play at the card table, and Lumsden formed one of 
that select Poker party in the Derrington smoking-room. 
He had been excessively civil to Harold since, and had 
asked him to dinner or supper on several occasions. He 
had no sinister designs whatever in this ; he simply thought 
that Sedbergh was a man of congenial tastes, and mistook 
what had been an unfortunate episode in Harold's life for 
an ordinary habit. To him, as to Jim Newbury, the excite- 
ment of high play had become a necessity. They were 
both strictly honourable men, but held that if their 
practised skill proved too much for those who joined them 
in their favourite amusement it was no business of theirs. 
It was for every man to take care of himself at the card 
table, and if he doubted his ability to do so he ought not to 
be such a fool as to sit down at it. 

Lumsden had put the same interpretation as all the 
world had upon Harold's being at Derrington, and though 
a little surprised at his refusal to take part in the card- 
playing at his — Lumsden's — rooms, had put it down as 
either one of those fits of superstition which make a 
gambler sometimes give up play for a time, because he 
considers his evil star in the ascendant, or from the equally 
common case, that he was temporarily at a loss for ready 
money. He was still far from grasping the fact that 
Harold was quite a neophyte, and already bitterly repented 
his initiation into the mysteries of high play. 

Harold was much astonished one morning to receive a 


44 


A FAMILY FAILING 


visit from Mr. Lumsden, who sent up his card with an 
intimation scribbled on the back that he should be very 
much obliged if he could see him on a little matter of 
business for ten minutes. Wondering what business on 
earth Lumsden could have with him, he ordered that 
gentleman to be shown up. 

“ Rather an uncanonical hour to intrude upon you,'' said 
his visitor, as they shook hands, “but Fve put off my 
journey eastwards for an hour on purpose to have a few 
minutes' talk with you. The fact is. I've a favour to beg of 
you." 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ It’s all come out of that match of yours, at Derrington. 
We got talking over it, at a party in my rooms last night, and 
I was rather chaffing Jim Newbury about what a show you 
made of him, and he said that he was young at the thing, 
and didn’t know how to make the most of his pony, 
that it was odds in favour of the man — the distance was 
so short, that you were a flyer at a hundred yards, but 
that if it had been a bit further you would have been 
beaten. I said, not a bit of it, you were running as strong 
as ever at the finish. Then came more chaff, and at last 
Newbury said he'd make the match at a hundred and fifty 
yards and give you another turn in. However, the end of 
it all is, that I've backed you for a monkey, to beat Jim on 
any horse or pony he likes, round an equilatenil triangle 
measuring fifty yards each side. The first question is, will 
you run for me ? " 

“ When's it to come off ? " 

“ This day month. I need scarcely say that you may 
have as much of the bet as you choose." 

“You're making a great mistake, Lumsden. You saw 
me play at Derrington, it was my first experience. I played 
because everybody else did, but I have no intention of 
repeating the experiment. I'm not rich enough even if I 
desired to do so." 

“ But you will run for me, won't you ? " enquired Phil, 
rather anxiously. 

“Are there any other conditions connected with the 
match ? " 

“ One hundred forfeit on either side, should it not come 


BESSIE’S DISCOVERY, 


45 


off, but in consideration of his having unlimited choice of 
horses ” 

“You have unlimited choice of men,’' interrupted 
Harold ; “I would rather not run.” 

“ I hope you won’t stick to that,” rejoined Lumsden, 
“ for I have named you, and wish no better man to run for 
me, but Master Jim is a monstrous cute hand, and I have 
stipulated vaguely that I have a choice, of course. It must 
be the stipulated triangle, and fair galloping ground, but it 
gives you the pull of starting a little against collar and 
finishing with a descent, or vice versa, whichever you think 
suits you best.” 

“ And you’ll have to pay forfeit if I don’t run for you ? ” 

“ Well, yes,” said Lumsden, shrugging his shoulders. 
“ Of course, I ought to have made the match subject to 
your consent. I never dreamt of your having any objec- 
tion, nor, indeed, do I think had Jim. However, if you 
don’t like to run, there’s no more to be said.” 

Harold was silent for two or three minutes. If he was to 
run this match, he would have to get into condition for it. 
He had no doubt Newbury had got an animal in his eye, a 
great deal cleverer than the pony he had ridden last time, 
aud further that he would have the advice of an expert as 
to how to ride it. He wanted something to take him out 
of himself. 

“Yes,” he said at last. “I’ll run for you upon one 
condition, that it is thoroughly understood by everyone 
concerned that I have hot a shilling on the event. I have 
never run such a race as this exactly, but you’re so far 
right, Lumsden, you need have no fear of my staying a 
hundred and fifty yards.” 

Phil Lumsden was profuse in his thanks, and speedily 
took his departure. He had no wish that Harold should 
be responsible for any part of his bet, unless he desired it. 
Most of his own associates would have insisted in sharing 
the wager, and he could do no more than ask Sedbergh to 
do so in the first instance. When Harold thought the thing 
over, he had grave doubts as to whether he had not done a 
foolish thing. If this thing got talked about, nobody 
would believe, in spite of the stipulation he had made, that 
he was not concerned in the bet. One thing, the choice of 


46 


A FAMILY FAILINO. 


course rested with him, and he must at once write to 
Lumsden, and make it a sine qua non that wherever the 
match might take place, it should not be run at Derrington 
Park. If it took place there, the news of it would fly all 
over the county like wildfire. No, there were lots of 
places about London where it could come off, and Kil- 
mington and its neighbourhood be none the wiser. Com- 
forting himself with this reflection, Harold determined to 
at once get himself into condition, and resolved to engage 
the services of a professional gentleman for the last fort- 
night. His pride rose at the idea of being worsted by 
Jim Newbury. He might not be able to hold his own 
with that gentleman at the card table, but this was a very 
different matter. He had heard nothing from his father 
directly, but when his quarter’s allowance became due, 
found that he had been as good as his word, and that it 
was reduced by one-third. 

Although Ralph Sedbergh still persisted in declaring his 
belief in the benefits of fresh air, open windows became 
more endurable to his friends and visitors as the Spring 
wore on. Although “ Half our May’s so awfully like 
mayn’t,” still towards the end of that reputed merry 
month the sting is usually out of the wind, and the air is 
balmy with the presage of coming summer. 

Ralph Sedbergh never mentioned his son’s name, and 
when, in his anxiety to ascertain how matters stood between 
them, the doctor hazarded an enquiry as to whether he had 
heard from Harold, Sedbergh replied with a negative ; 
adding drily, that he had neither wished nor expected to. 
But there was one thing that the doctor had picked up 
amid the gossip of Kilmington — that a week or two after 
Harold’s last visit, Ralph Sedbergh’s solicitor in that town 
had been sent for to Enderby, and had had occasion to 
drive out there once or twice since. The doctor shook his 
head as he told his wife this, and remarked that he was 
afraid it augured no good for Harold. That Bessie quickly 
heard this little bit of news from her mother was matter of 
cour-c, and the two women marvelled a good deal in what 
way It would affect that young gentleman’s prospects. Not 
being possessed of the doctor’s knowledge with regard to 
the Endersby estates, they could only make vague guesses 


BESSIE’S DISCOVERY. 


47 


On the subject, the most plausible of which was that the 
alienation of more or less personal property would be the 
result of Harold’s quarrel with his father. Still Papa had 
said that the mere fact of Mr. Greenwood having been up at 
the Hall in itself boded harm to Harold, and that was 
quite enough to call forth all Miss Bessie’s vigilance. She 
felt quite sure that Harold’s interests were menaced, and 
though perhaps her own might never be bound up with 
them, yet she was resolved to watch over them as closely 
as she could, if only for his sake. She was quite sure of 
one thing, and that was that he ought to know all that was 
going on down there. All these little things seemed trifles 
with nothing in them to her mother and herself, but to 
Harold they would probably have a very different signifi- 
cation. She would write and let him know all the gossip 
she could pick up concerning him. There could be no 
harm in that, it would be for him to determine whether 
there was anything in it or not. From this out, Miss 
Radley was all eyes and ears about anything connected 
with the Sedberghs. It was lovely weather for riding, and 
she was passionately fond of that exercise, and with a hazy 
idea that she was in some measure watching over her 
lover’s concerns, Bessie constantly cantered over to 
En lerby, and stared moodily at the Hall, as if by so doing 
sh3 could penetrate the secret intentions of its eccentric 
owner. 

Another very favourite ride of Bessie’s was to Herring- 
ton. It was through very pretty lanes, and then there was 
a splendid canter on the turf when- you got into the park, 
about the privilege of riding or driving through which the 
Newburys were very good-natured to the Kilmington 
people. She liked to look upon the large, though irregular, 
pile that stood in the centre, and call to mind the recol- 
lection of that one glorious night she had passed there. 

Although he. father often accompanied her, his pro- 
fessional duties sometimes took him, what Bessie termed 
in sadly dull and uninteresting directions, and on these 
occasions they parted company, and the girl rode by herself. 
Her attention was aroused one morning, as she cantered 
through the park, by a singular enclosure. It was an 
equilateral triangle in shape, with a line of rails about 


48 


A family FAILlNa 


three foot six high running round each side of it, while at 
each angle was a slender white post, some ten or twelve 
feet high. She pulled up and stared at it, puzzling 
what it could be meant for. There was nobody about to 
appeal to on that point, and finally, Bessie came to the 
conclusion that it was designed for a small plantation, for 
ornamental purposes she supposed, and yet she thought 
what a remarkably ugly shape to have selected for it under 
those circumstances. However, she might be wrong, it 
might have relation to shooting, or even to foxes, but that 
it was meant for a plantation of some form she entertained 
no doubt. By the time she reached home, she had pretty 
well forgotten all about it, and little dreamt that her morn- 
ing’s discovery was destined to turn out of considerable im- 
portance to her lover later on. 

‘‘Well, whatever fresh air may do for the health, it cer- 
tainly don’t improve the temper, that is, if one may judge by 
Ralph Sedbergh,” exclaimed the doctor, as he came in to 
luncheon. “ I’ll go to Enderby no rriore ; I’ve known the 
man and laughed at his crotchets because we were all boys 
together. John’s a bit peppery, and I’ve been friends with 
him all my life, but Ralph’s become unbearable. There’s 
one thing, poor fellow, ’pon my word, I don’t think he’s 
quite responsible. There’s no saying a word to him, but I 
firmly believe he’s suffering from cerebral irritation, the 
result of suppressed gout. I shouldn’t quite like to pre- 
scribe for it ; I do believe if he held high revel on port 
or Burgundy for two or three days, got a little drunk, in 
fact, he’d bring it out and be a deal better for it.” 

“ My dear,” said Mrs. Radley laughing, “ I shall begin 
to agree with Mr. Sedbergh, and doubt your professional 
knowledge. Why, he’d be worse than ever. I’m sure 
people are never fit to speak to when they’ve got that com- 
plaint, and it’s been my misfortune to know a few.” 

She said nothing, but once more Bessie trembled for her 
lover’s future. From a father in Ralph Sedbergh’s state of 
mind what might not be expected ? She did not know 
what harm he could work Harold, but in his wrath Mr. 
Sedbergh was not likely to spare anyone who had incurred 
his displeasure. She had vowed to help Harold, she had 
made up her mind to write to him and let him know any- 


BESSIE’S DISCOVERS. 


49 


thing that she thought might be tending to his prejudice, 
but what could she say ? That his father was in a bad 
temper, and that a solicitor had once or twice been over to 
see him. It all amounted to nothing. She would only be 
called a meddlesome little goose for her pains. Ah, if she 
could only stand between him and such ills as might 
threaten him he should see how staunch she could be to 
him. Still, she never relaxed her vigilance, and her ears 
were greedily opened to all Kilmington gossip that trended 
on the Sedberghs or the doings at Derrington Park. It 
was not long before she heard that triangular enclosure 
which had attracted her attention discussed. The speakers 
mostly took pretty well her own views concerning it, and 
only speculated as to what could have induced whoever 
planned the new plantation, to give it such a very ugly 
shape, but she was rather struck by a remark that fell from 
a quiet old gentleman who was present on the occasion, 
who closed the little debate with : 

“Before we condemn its shape it would be perhaps as 
well to wait and see if it is meant for a plantation,'’ and 
though he was promptly met by : 

“ What else could he suppose it was for ? ” he evidently 
remained of opinion that the protection of young trees 
might after all not be what it was designed for. 

Bessie rode "out again next morning to once more see 
what she could make of it. It was noon when she entered 
the Park, and though she rode round the enclosure she 
could make nothing more of it. There were no signs of 
preparations for planting, there was not a soul about, nor 
did it look as if the slightest additional work had been done 
to it since she had first discovered it. It was a fresh 
June morning, and the day had been heralded by a gentle 
shower or two, and as the girl sat puzzling over her problem 
her eye suddenly caught hoof-marks on the soft turf. What 
could be the meaning of this ? She paused for a moment 
and thought, then quietly edging her horse away from the 
rails, walked him leisurely round the triangle. Yes, it was 
very curious, the hoof-marks ran all round, and were clearly 
fresh. There could be no doubt a horse, or perhaps by the 
multiplicity of the marks, horses, had been galloped round 
the enclosure that morning. What a singular freak for any- 

4 


60 


A family failing 


one to have taken into their head. What could be the 
meaning of it ? And who was the rider ? There was 
nobody at the house — the Newburys were all in Town, she 
knew ; and, still pondering over what could be the fun of 
riding round a triangle, Bessie cantered home to luncheon. 


CHAPTER VIIL 

IN TRAINING. 

Once get through the interminable maze of bricks and 
mortar that surrounds London to the west, and you come 
to a surprisingly pretty country. Out Edgware and Hendon 
way are a number of quaint little villages that remain pretty 
much as they were fifty years ago — there are queer little 
inns of the old roadside type — sleepy little public-houses we 
should call them nowadays, when anything that entitles 
itself to be called an inn indulges in an extensive display of 
gilding and plate-glass. There are two such as I mean to 
be seen at Neasdon, and on Kingsbury Green stands one 
unpretentious little house of this description that, except in 
the matter of gorgeous advertisements of aerated waters, has 
not changed since the decade preceding the Crimean War. 

Kingsbury, and its satellite, the Hyde, are almost as they 
were in those days ; here and there perhaps a house has 
disappeared, but as a rule I fancy that those who departed 
this life at the beginning of the century, could they revisit 
their old haunts at its close, would find no difficulty in 
recognising the once familiar scenes. 

True to his resolve, as the time for his match draws near, 
Harold Sedbergh puts himself in the hands of the Bounding 
Bantam, a professional pedestrian of high repute, and 
affirmed by his friends to be the fastest quarter-of-a-mile 
runner in England. The Bantam, after slightly testing his 
pupifs powers, says, that if he can only get him “ fit,'^ that 
it ought to take a smart pony to beat him ; but the Bound- 
ing one speaks very disparagingly of Harold’s condition, 
with which really there is no great fault to be found, but the 
more difficulties of that nature he can suggest the more it 


IK TKAINlNa. 


61 


will conduce to the Bantam^s honour and glory should his 
man win; moreover, as that gentleman confides to his 
cronies, “ It don^t do to let these swells think a few days is 
enough for a preparation, we’ve got our living to get, and 
there’s a tidy profit to be got out of training at so much per 
week, and I likes to give ’em plenty of time,” and the 
Bantam closes his oration with a significant wink. 

He, however, soon found out from Mr. Lumsden and 
one or two of his friends who came down to see Harold in 
his training quarters, that there was a good deal of money 
upon this match, and Phil Lumsden gave the Bantam 
clearly to understand that Harold’s backers were prepared, 
in that worthy’s vernacular, ‘‘ to behave like gentlemen in 
the event of their man winning.” 

After a few days at the White Hart at Neasdon, the 
Bantam pronounced they were attracting too much atten- 
tion. That a gentleman of the Bantam’s celebrity should 
be in charge of a novice naturally excited curiosity, and 
though he preserved an impenetrable silence for what he was 
training his pupil, yet people vrould stare and dog their 
footsteps in the hopes of witnessing they didn’t exactly 
know what, but such task as the Bantam might call upon 
his charge to essay. He decided upon more secluded 
quarters, and insisted upon Harold removing to a quiet 
little place he knew of, some few miles off, namely, ‘‘ The 
Plough,” on Kingsbury Green. 

“ It mayn’t be stylish to look at,” said the Bantam, on 
their arrival, “ like the Green opposite it ain’t got no pre- 
tence about it, but it’s clean, quiet, and comfortable, and 
that, fresh air and exercise, is about as much as you w^nt 
when you’re in training.” 

Two days after their arrival in their new quarters Harold 
Sedbergh was rather surprised at a note he received from 
Bessie. There was not very much news in it, a little of the 
local gossip of Kilmington, a very guarded allusion to the 
Squire, in which she managed to let him see that pre- 
sumably in consequence of his ill-health he had so nearly 
quarrelled with her father that she could give him but little 
tidings of him. She knew that he would read between the 
lines here, but how to tell him that Mr. Sedbergh’s solicitor 
had been out twice or thrice to see him at the Hall, had 

4 * 


52 


A FAMILY FAILING, 


proved beyond her, she felt that he ought to know it, but, 
situated as she was to him, it was impossible to announce it 
straight out, but there was one curious bit of news towards 
the finish of the letter that made Harold smile. 

“The Newbury people are all away,” she said; “theyVe 
railed off the most singular plantation in the centre of the 
Park, at least that's what we suppose it's to be ; all Kilming- 
ton is much exercised concerning it, whether it's for 
pheasants or foxes, or both ; there's one thing, it can't be 
for ornament, nobody ever heard of a triangular plantation 
for that purpose. With kind regards from my father and 
mother, that is, there would be if they knew I was writing, 

“ Ever yours sincerely, 

“ Bessie Radley.” 

This remarkable enclosure might be a puzzle to the good 
folks at Kilmington, but its meaning was very clear to 
Harold Sedbergh, and he felt now that he had a mission for 
Bessie. “ By Jove ! '' he jnuttered with a smile, “ I must 
write and ask her to turn tout.” 

If Bessie had been curious before about the new planta- 
tion her curiosity was still further stimulated by Harold's 
letter ; he evidently took great interest in her discovery ; he 
did not tell her the use for which he had little doubt it was 
destined, but exhorted her to watch it closely and to let 
him know anything further she might find out about it. He 
also suggested that if she rode over to Herrington before 
breakfast, he fancied she might be enlightened regarding 
that enclosure. 

“ Don't think I'm joking,” he added, “ but be good- 
natured, and do what I ask you.” “ It is very odd,” thought 
Miss Radley, “ but a canter before breakfast these summer 
mornings would be delightful, and it makes an object even 
if nothing comes of it.” Lumsden arriving the next day to 
see how his champion was progressing, was much interested 
on hearing the news from Derrington Park. 

“Yes,” he said, “Jim Newbury is no fool; it wasn't 
likely he would make a match of this kind without having a 
pretty smart animal of some kind ; no doubt it's in strict 
training and that blessed triangle has been put up for it's 


IN TRAININO, 


53 


especial benefit. I dare say your informant could give a 
little more accurate information if he was asked — tell us 
how the pony gets round his corners, for instance, and 
perhaps even tell us what time he does the whole course in. 
A sharp chap might manage that.'^ 

Harold did not think it necessary to tell Phil Lumsden 
that his correspondent was a lady. 

“ I can trust to my informants brains and eyesight,” 
he replied, ‘‘ all he picks up I shall know in the course of 
a day or two. Don’t be nervous about your monkey, Phil, 
the Bantam will tell you that you will have a very good 
show for it." 

“ I know that,” replied the other, ‘‘ its awfully good of 
you to take all this trouble for me, but the fact is Pve got a 
lot of money on it. You see its just this, its come to a 
regular game of ‘brag’ between me and Jim Newbury, and 
our respective friends. Jim’s pals look upon it that he’s so 
sharp he must have the best of me ; my intimates don’t 
think I’m quite a fool in my own line ; there’s a bit of 
vanity mixed up in it all, and apart from the money I’d give 
a good deal to beat Newbury over this match. It’s the 
Guards against the Stock Exchange. What does the 
Bantam say?” 

“ Well, he never saw a match of the kind before, but 
thinks I ought to win ; however, I suppose Jim has picked 
up something amazingly clever.” 

“Yes, he’s very dark about it, but brags he’s got some- 
thing as quick as ■ a squirrel, and that can pirouette like a 
queen of the ballet. I must be off now, but I’ll come out 
again the day after to-morrow, if it’s only to hear the news 
from Derrington.” 

According to her instructions Bessie rode over to in- 
vestigate that mysterious enclosure in the early morning. 
She had a delightful ride, but on reaching the park speedily 
became aware that she had arrived too late to witness what 
Harold had doubtless intended her to see, but she began 
to have some idea of what that triangle was meant for. 
Close to it was a somewhat portly man, mounted on aclever- 
looking cob, and by his side, talking to him, was a man- 
nikin, astride of a very well-bred pony, which blew slightly, as 
if recently galloped. They were in such earnest conference 


54 


A FAMtLY Failing 


that for a minute or two they didn’t perceive her, and the 
stout man, whom she recognised as the stud-groom, referred 
once or twice to a largish watch that he took from his 
pocket ; perceiving Miss Radley he said something shortly 
to his companion, and led the way back to the house, 
raising his hat courteously as he passed her, though if she 
could have heard his muttered “ What the deuce brought 
her prying out here at this time of the morning I 
wonder ? ” she would have understood that she was not a 
welcome visitor. The horses’ footmarks that she had 
noticed running round the enclosure on a former visit 
flashed across her mind, and it instantly dawned upon her 
that some such match as Harold Sedbergh had run the 
week of the ball was in course of rehearsal ; what it was, oi 
whether he had anything to do with it, she, of course, 
couldn't tell, but that he knew of it and was interested in it 
was evident. She rode slowly on through the park for a 
little, and then turning back passed close to the enclosure, 
and saw as she anticipated that quite fresh hoof-marks 
once more ran round it ; this was what Harold wanted to 
know about no doubt ; she would write at once and tell him 
of her further discoveries, and also ask him to particularise 
what it was that he wanted her to ascertain exactly. 

But Bessie had not to wait for an answer for the very 
next post brought her further instructions. Taking it for 
granted that she had already discovered what the enclosure 
was made for, he begged her to watch whether the pony 
was quick round the turns, and though he hardly hoped 
she would be able to find out for him, yet if she could 
ascertain what time that pony took to get round the triangle 
he should like very much to know it. “ Even if you can 
manage it,” the letter continued, “it is impossible to do this 
accurately without a ‘stop watch,’ can you get such a 
thing ? ” 

“ Well,” said the girl with a light laugh. “ I can hardly 
say that Harold is taking me into his confidence, though he 
has done me the honour to appoint me his tout at 
Derrington. I don’t know for certain, but I’ve a strong 
idea that he’s got all wrong with his father chiefly on my 
account. Well I’d do his bidding blindly over much 
bigger things than this, and he knows it, I’m afraid, only 


IN TRAINING. 


65 


too well,” and then practical Bessie began to think what 
she had to do. It waS not very likely she thought that 
Langridge the stud-groom would wittingly allow her to see 
the pony do his appointed task ; she was not learned in 
turf lore, but she had a hazy idea that trainers did not 
encourage spectators when they tried horses. No, to do 
what Harold wanted she must be a concealed looker-on at 
the pony’s performances, and how that was to be managed 
for the moment rather puzzled Miss Radley. About a stop 
watch there was no difficulty, her father had one which he 
occasionally used professionally, and there could be no 
difficulty about borrowing that for the occasion, the question 
she had to decide was where she could hide herself in the 
park, so that she could see all Langridge’s proceedings with- 
ont being seen by him, and Bessie pondered as to whether 
it would not be necessary to have recourse to a confederate. 
She was not clear either that she quite understood the 
management of a stop watch, and she remembered having 
heard her father say that if unaccustomed to one it was * 
very easy to make a mistake, and that when it came to a 
matter of seconds a slight error made a great difference, 
however, it was evident from Harold’s letter that there was 
no time to be lost, and it was necessary to decide at once 
upon her plan of operation. 

At last Bessie resolved to take her father into her confi- 
dence ; there would be no reason she thought to say any- 
thing about her having either written to or heard from 
Harold, she had found this out accidentally in a morning 
ride, and Langridge taking away the pony the minute he 
saw her had piqued her. She was determined now she would 
see and know all about it. The doctor burst out laughing 
when he heard his daughter’s story, but it did not occur to 
him to connect Harold with it, he was up in London, and 
not likely, in the doctor’s opinion, to trouble Enderby and 
that neighbourhood for some time ; he had little doubt 
that Jim Newbury, profiting by past experience, was pre- 
paring a rod in pickle for somebody, and that they would 
hear plenty about a match in Derrington Park before the 
autumn was over. 

“ The idea of your turning horse-watcher — it’s too ridi- 
qqlous. Are you aware of all fhe pains and penaltie§ 


6 


A FAMILY FAILINa. 


incidental to the calling? How the tout has at times been 
ducked in a horse-pond, worried by dogs, and locked up in 
the weighing-room of the stand ? Just fancy yourself in any 
one of those positions, my dear/^ 

“ Don't tease, papa,” replied the girl, “ but just tell me 
how I'm to be even with that disagretable old Langridge, as 
if my looking on could possibly have done any harm. I 
didn't see Harold Sedbergh's match in the spring, remem- 
ber, and I do so want to see how they manage these things. 
I suppose the man always has a lot the best of it ? ” 

“ It must depend a great deal upon how handy the horse 
is, I should think, but if you are to start touting, you’ll 
have to do it on your feet, you’ll be too conspicuous on 
horseback.” 

“ I can't walk from Derrington and back before breakfast, 
there isn’t time, papa.” 

‘‘Well, you see, as the leading medical man of Kilming- 
ton, I can’t exactly turn horse-watcher, but I'll so far abet 
you in your felonious designs as to drive you out, drop you 
at the park gates, while you go for a walk, and pick you up 
again on my road home.” 

“ Oh, that will do capitally,” cried Bessie, clapping her 
hands. “ Put me in the park on foot, and it will be very 
hard if I don’t find a bush or a clump of trees or something 
from behind which to circumvent old Langridge. You 
shall lend me your stop watch, and then when we hear of 
this match coming off in the autumn, we shall know w'hich 
side to back.” 

‘•You unprincipled little WTetch,” replied her father. 
“ Upon my w^ord, touting is a most demoralizing occupa- 
tion, and you’re actually making me an accomi)lice to your 
iniquity.” 

“Never mind, we’ll drive over at daybreak to-morrow 
morning, and in the meantime you shall teach me how to 
manage the watch.” 

The next morning saw Miss Radley pass through the 
gates of Derrington Park at a very early hour. That there 
was no sign of Mr. Langridge and his charge she quickly 
satisfied herself, and soon selected a small clump of trees 
at some little distance from the enclosure, in which she 
ensconced herself, and quietly awaited events. She was 


IN TRAININa. 


67 


not much too soon, and had only been about twenty 
minutes in her concealment, before she descried the 
trainer accompanied by a boy with the pony, on their way 
from the Hall. The latter was first sent two good canters, 
then a half mile sharply, and was then walked quietly down 
to one of the angles of the enclosure. ‘‘Ah!^^ exclaimed 
Bessie to herself, “ now come his lessons.^' Thrice, with an 
interval of about a quarter of an hour between each per- 
formance, did the pony scuttle round the triangle with won- 
derful rapidity. So absorbed was the girl in his perform- 
ance the first time that she quite forgot all about timing 
him, the second she had grave doubts as to whether she 
had managed her watch quite so cleverly as she ought to 
have done, but the third time she felt quite sure of her 
accuracy. Eighteen seconds,^' she muttered, ‘‘ I wonder 
whether that’s quick. I am sure it looked it. It was more 
like a rabbit than a pony scudding round that triangle,” and 
then, having waited till Mr. Langridge and his charge were 
well on their way back to the house. Miss Radley made her 
way out of the park to rejoin her father. 


CHAPTER IX. 

AT “the plough.” 

The quiet little place to which the Bantam had brought his 
charge, although possessing that recommendation, could not 
be called luxurious. In the sitting-room, which, though now 
used exclusively by Harold, was usually the public parlour, 
the furniture was scanty and primitive, consisting principally 
of half a score of Windsor chairs, of which two or three, in 
virtue of their arms, were considered easy ones. The floor 
was sanded, and the sole attempt at ornament was that im- 
possible looking-glass over the mantel-piece, one glance into 
which put you out of conceit with “ the human face divine ” 
generally, and your own in particular. No caricaturist that 
ever wielded pencil, could possibly distort the face to the 
extent that wonderful glass did; the landlord was rather 
proud of it, he looked upon its peculiarities as enhancing 
its value, boasted privately that it had been there ever 
since he could recollect, been there, he believed, ever since 


A FAMILY FAILINa 


6S 

the “ Plough ” had been an inn, and that nobody who 
looked into it had ever forgotten it. 

“ Why bless you,^^ he said, “chaps who ain^t been in the 
house for twenty years or more always recognize that glass, 
there ain't such another in England." 

But Harold cares little about his surroundings, in all the 
health and elasticity of spirits, that the regular hours and 
plain living his trainer compels him to keep, produce, 
Harold is quite content with the Windsor chairs, and the 
soft summer air that, laden with the scent of the jasmine, 
honeysuckle, clematis, etc., comes through the casement. 
He sits at the open window this morning, gazing at the 
little patch of green opposite, and pondering over Bessie's 
report. 

“ It's true then, and Newbury has picked up an out-of- 
the-way clever pony.'’ Eighteen seconds. Can he beat 
that ? He doesn't know — he has never even tried this 
running round a triangle, and the turns he supposes must 
make a difference in the time. The Bantam, oddly enough, 
although he has timed him over a straight hundred and fifty 
yards, and professed himself satisfied with the result, has 
never, as yet, called upon him to run that distance accord- 
ing to the conditions of the match. “Stupid of him," 
thought Harold. “ He surely ought to have trained me 
over a course similar to that I am engaged to run over." 
Absorbed in the desire to beat his opponent he takes no 
heed that he will benefit not one shilling by the victory, he 
only knows he shall be cruelly disappointed by defeat, he is 
bitten by Phil Lumsden's feeling on the subject, he remem- 
bered what Phil said the other day, “ I've a lot of money on 
it, but it isn't altogether that, I can't bear the idea of being 
beaten by Jim Newbury. Well, Phil's to be down to-day, 
and he must talk it over with him." Eighteen seconds ! He 
wondered what Phil would say to that ; it took him about 
that to do the hundred and fifty yards without the turns, 
indeed it was a fine point whether he could do it in that 
time. “ Hang it, it would be an awful bore to find I'm not 
quite good enough." 

Lumsden duly turned up in the afternoon, according to 
his promise, and on being told of Bessie's report remarked, 

Yes, Master Jim's very cleyer, and neyer more dangerous 


AT “THE plough; 


59 


than when disposed to brag. When he boasts of holding 
four aces, he^s generally got ’em or something pretty near it. 
I can’t understand the Bantam not training you over the 
course you’re to run. I’ll have a talk with him before I go. 
Now you mustn’t think, old man, because I can’t run that 
I know nothing about it. Since I made this match. I’ve 
chummed in with some running men, and got, I fancy, 
a bit of their learning ; don’t you think that Newbury’s 
going to have it all his own way. You’ll win yet, only do 
exactly what the Bantam tells you that’s all.” 

Harold promised to leave himself entirely in the hands of 
his trainer, and Lumsden shortly took his departure, after 
having held an earnest conference with that worthy. 

The evening post brought Harold a rather unpleasant 
letter from his uncle Aleck. “Come and see me at once,” 
it ran, “ I’ve got an opening for you which at all events 
you would do well to think of, and remember except for 
tried men nothing of this sort is kept waiting long, but 
what I want to see you still more about is a bit of gossip 
concerning yourself, which is gradually becoming common 
property, and which will most assuredly find its way into 
the papers before forty-eight hours are over. When we 
talk about a thing in Fleet Street, the odds are the public 
read about it the next morning, and it is rumoured that 
you have backed yourself to run against a horse for a large 
sum of money. My dear Harold, do consider the conse- 
quences of this. You’re at loggerheads with your father 
at this moment, this is sure to widen the breach, for he 
will put the worst possible interpretation upon it, call it 
reckless gambling, and goodness knows what ; I don’t want 
to preach, but is it prudent of you to still further irritate 
him now? You know how hot-tempered he is, and 
remember your future lies entirely at his disposal; hard 
lines that it should be so I admit, but we must deal with 
things as they are. Enderby should go to you, and neither 
John nor myself wish it otherwise, but if you can back out 
of the business take my advice and do, the less your father 
hears of you now the better, and more especially in that 
sort of way. 

*‘Your affectionate uncle, 

“Aleck Sedbergh/' 


60 


A FAMILY FAILING, 


This really was very disgusting. Harold had expressly 
stipulated that the match should not be run in Derrington 
Park, because he desired that it should be unknown to 
Kilmington and its neighbourhood, but the affair had grown 
into a much bigger thing than had been originally contem- 
plated; many men had been interested in it, and much 
money had been wagered on the result, and when t.ial is 
the case there is sure to be plenty of talk about it in club 
smoking rooms, and the sporting world generally; he saw 
clearly that his uncle was right, but he saw also that it was 
impossible for him to back out, and even if he did, that 
the announcement of his undertaking would be in the 
papers all the same, and as likely as not with an exagge- 
rated version of what the original match had been made for. 
Even those directly interested in the event, could hardly be 
expected to know that he had not a shilling on the result ; 
in fact, except Lumsden, the probability was that everybody 
believed him to have backed himself heavily. That con- 
founded visit to Derrington, how he wished he had never 
gone there ; no he didn’t, hang it, the ball was worth all 
the consequences. He had acquired a reputation for 
gambling, and supposed he should never lose it, and yet 
in truth, as the French cynic said, ‘‘he had renounced 
the vice, because the vice had renounced him,” if for no 
other reason, you cannot play when you’ve no money 
left to gamble with. Rightly or wrongly, Harold ascribed 
the notoriety which the match had now obtained to the 
vaunting of Jim Newbury, and after a little he lost all 
thought of the probable disasters consequent to himself in 
his ardent desire to disappoint that gentleman. The 
absorbing question in his mind was could he beat eighteen 
seconds ? and upon this point his trainer also seemed to 
display much curiosity. 

He could no longer complain that the Bantam did not 
try him round a triangle; that eminent pedestrian had 
marked out a course of that description in a handy grass 
field, and schooled him round it pretty constantly, making 
him traverse it sometimes one way and sometimes another, 
and consulting his watch closely after each performance. 

The Bantam seemed by no means satisfied with these 
experiments. 


AT •• THE PLOUGH. 


61 


“ It^s a queer thing/' he remarked one morning, ‘‘ but 
we all seem to have been made a bit lop-sided ; you never 
meet a man, sir, as good with one hand as the other, do 
you, sir ? Take the pugilists, they can always hit harder 
with one fist than the other. Now, Mr. Sedbergh, Fm not 
going to have you worry yourself about time — as Fve told 
you already, that's my business — but I don’t mind telling 
you, sir, it makes a trifling difference which way you run it. 
You’re a little slower running it left-handed than you are 
right. May I ask if you happen to have a copy of the 
exact conditions of this match ? ” 

“ No,” rejoined Harold. “ Mr. Lumsden made it, and 
the conditions were drawn out by him ; they’re just what 
you’ve been told, I only stipulated for one thing — that it 
should come off in the neighbourhood of London.” 

“ Humph !” grunted the Bantam, ‘‘that’s just the loose 
way you gentlemen do things, and then you expect the 
trainer to do you justice. If I only knew exactly what the 
course was, I should train you for that only ; however, it’s 
no use talking about that, but another time you take my 
advice, Mr. Sedbergh, and mind you have proper articles 
drawn up.” 

This again made Harold reflective. That problem of 
the eighteen seconds was bad enough and the Bantam was 
particularly exasperating over it, declining to tell his charge 
anything about his spins, on the ground that it only dis- 
heartens a man to find that he has not made quite such 
good time as he reckoned on, although all the same, it may 
be quite good enough to win with. Men and horses too 
varied a bit, and were better some days than they were others. 

Ah, where ? Like his trainer, Harold became extremely 
anxious to know where the match was to take place. The 
day was drawing very near now, and he had quite forgotten 
to ask Lumsden what ground he had selected. Ciose to 
Town and much talked of, the probab^ity was there would 
be a considerable number of people down from London to 
see it, and that alone would make it certain to be in the 
papers. To change the venue now was impossible, and 
after all what did it matter ? the match had obtained 
notoriety, and, let the tryst be as mysterious as if it were a 
prize fight, there would still be plenty of people to see it 


62 


A FAMILY FAILING. 


No, Uncle Aleck’s advice had come too late, he must go 
through with it now, but he did wonder what spot Phil 
Lumsden had selected. 

Miss Radley continued to be very assiduous in her visits 
to Derrington Park ; she knew now pretty well to a nicety 
at what time Langridge and his charge would make their 
appearance, and had contrived to witness most of that 
pony’s gallops. She had timed him more than once in his 
performance round the enclosure, and found that he varied 
little from the eighteen seconds she had noted on that first 
morning. All these things were duly chronicled, and 
reports were despatched to Harold Sedbergh. One thing 
though Bessie did not mention, and that was that her father 
was an accessory to her touting ; it had certainly occurred 
to the doctor when she persevered in it that this could not 
be all idle curiosity. TJje girl must have some strong 
reason for continuing her self-imposed task, and that reason 
could only be that she knew Harold to be mixed up in the 
business. Now if he had been so foolish, the doctor was 
quite willing that he should be put in possession of any 
information that might be of use to him. He was certainly 
desirous that there should be no further intercourse between 
the two, but in these days of the penny post, to prohibit it 
altogether was absurd, and more likely to keep the girl’s 
lover in her mind than not. 

Harold, although grateful for her information, and 
begging her to let him know everything concerning that 
clever pony, never mentioned what his particular interest 
was in its performances. Another thing too, which the girl 
could not make out, was what on earth he was doing at 
Kingsbury. She had looked up Kingsbury in railway- 
guides, handbooks to Middlesex, etcetera, and had discovered 
that it was a small village on the outskirts of London. 
What could have taken him there ? Surely fishing so close 
to London could not be worth having, and she could think 
of nothing else calculated to amuse a young gentleman with 
Mr. Sedbergh’s tastes at a suburban village in the middle 
of summer. It really was very odd, and she must insist on 
knowing all about it in his next letter ; it was not fair that 
all the news should come from her side, and he tell her 
nothing about himself. 


Match. 


62 


But Bessie, as well as the public generally, was destined 
to be speedily enlightened. A very few days now would 
decide whether Harold or that clever pony was the quicker 
round the triangle, and a full account of the match would 
in all probability be found in the daily papers. 


CHAPTER X. 

•‘the match.’* 

The day appointed for the match drew very near, and, as 
both Harold and his uncle had foreseen, paragraphs con- 
cerning It had cropped up in all the papers. It didn^t 
much matter how they originated, but they were freely 
copied from one journal to another. It was said to be for 
a very large sum of money, and would, no doubt, be rather 
a singular contest ; about the exact terms of the match 
there prevailed too no little discrepancy, and the papers 
corrected each othePs statements with considerable acer- 
bity. The news speedily reached Derrington ; in the first 
instance, Jim Newbury was only alluded to as an officer in 
the Guards, and his antagonist as a well-known amateur 
pedestrian, but in an age when the public crave greedily for 
all details of such transactions it was not likely that names 
should not ooze out, and in twenty-four hours it dawned 
upon the sporting spirits of Kilmington what that enclosure 
in Derrington Park which had so mystified them was meant 
for. Miss Radley and her father were probably the only 
two people hitherto who had solved the mystery. 

The doctor shook his head when he saw it, and said it 
was a bad business. There was very little chance that the 
squire would not see it also, and the doctor felt sure that, 
bad as things stood now between father and son, this would 
make them much worse. He had not seen very much of 
Ralph Sedbergh of late — designedly. He knew the painful 
state of irritability his old friend was in, and he wished to 
avoid an actual quarrel with him, and that was a thing 
difficult for any one to avoid who came in contact with 
him. One morning an urgent summons arrived from 


64 


A FAMILY FAlLINa. 


Enderby, and the groom who brought it — and had evidently 
not spared his horse by the way — said his master was very 
bad indeed and in awful pain. The doctor lost no time in 
complying with the summons, but, sorry though he was to 
hear of the state of his old friend, he could not help 
saying to his wife before he started : 

“ Ah ! my dear, he’s called me a quack many times, but 
you see, in spite of all his theories, the first time he^s really 
ill he sends for me.’^ 

But there was a still greater triumph awaiting the doctor 
at Enderby Hall. On his arrival there, he found the squire 
not only seriously ill, and in great agony, but a brief ex- 
amination of the patient sufficed to show that a severe 
attack of the gout was the malady from which he was 
suffering The doctor had always held that complaint, in 
its suppressed form, was the cause of all Ralph Sedbergh’s 
eccentricity, and had said over and over again, that if he 
could only have one good fit of it, he would become a 
rational being, and exhibit but slight infirmity of temper. 
There could be no doubt the time had come to test his 
theory. But that this latter improvement had not as yet 
commenced was very evident, from the full flavoured lan- 
guage the victim was using to those about him, but in the 
first acute agony that was only to be expected. The 
doctor indeed told his wife afterwards with much gusto, 
that his patient was quite “his own self,'’ and, upon being 
told what his ailment was, stoutly asseverated he was never 
troubled with the complaint. However, Dr. Radley, 
having prescribed the usual remedies and promised him a 
speedy alleviation of the very acute pain, did not think it 
necessary to argue that question out with him, but drove 
home, wondering whether he would prove right in the 
opinion he often expressed, concerning the result a sharp 
attack of his hereditary foe would have in changing Ralph 
Sedbergh’s character. 

Mrs. Radley and Bessie were very full of questions on 
the doctor’s return, and then he reflected that Harold’s 
name had never been mentioned between himself and his 
patient. Whether he had seen the paragraph or not, the 
d .xtor couldn’t tell. He thought not — as had it been 
otherwise, he couldn’t conceive the squire not only alluding 


THE MATCH. 


65 


to it, but pretty strongly too. On the whole, he thought it 
a favourable sign for Harold that nothing had been said 
concerning him, and only wished those anomalous visits of 
Greenwood, the Kilmington solicitor, to Enderby, had 
worked no further harm than the paragraph. 

His father’s attack was duly reported to Harold in 
Bessie's letters, but that gentleman was not much disturbed 
by the news ; he was sorry for his father, but gout was the 
lot of all the family; and he had seen his Uncle John 
wrestle through too many fits of their hereditary enemy to 
feel nervous about it. He was more anxious, sad to say, to 
know whether he could beat that eighteen seconds than 
anything else just at present. But the Bantam was in- 
flexible, and though his watch was constantly in his hand, 
obstinately refused to give even a hint of what it told 
him. The one thing that consoled him was that Phil 
Lumsden was sanguine, and he thought probably that the 
Bantam was more communicative to him. 

Sandown had been finally pitched upon for the battle- 
field, and permission having been granted by the committee, 
the pretty Esher race-course saw a rather select gathering 
assembled one summer morning to see this novel affair 
brought to a conclusion. As Lumsden had said, there was 
a good deal of money upon it, but although that might be 
the case, it seemed as if there was by no means enough, 
and the partisans of horse or man seemed equally confident. 
A shade of odds either way was eagerly snapped at. Great 
curiosity was evinced to see the competitors, and in this 
respect, the pony was undoubtedly the favourite. A well- 
bred, very knowing-looking brown animal, who, his owner 
avowed, was quick as a cat, and cunning as a monkey, 
laughingly adding that he could be backed to go up a 
ladder and down the other side, and though of course, that 
was only Jim Newbury's bounce, there could bd no doubt 
that he had implicit faith in the powers of his galloway to 
do what he was asked. Then people flocked to look at the 
course. An equilateral triangle neatly railed off, with long 
white posts at all three angles — a fac-simile in short of the 
enclosure in Derrington Park — and some of the ladies, 
and there was a very fair sprinkling of the gentler sex 
present, expressed an opinion that it was likely to be 

5 


6(5 A Family f aIlin^. 

dangerous for the man, he was so liable to be knocked 
down at the turns. 

But what are they delaying for ? Why don’t they start 
and get it over ? There is only this match, let us get it 
over and get back to Town tor lunch. Sandown, with 
neither racing nor a band, is not good enough to waste a 
lovely summer day on, in the very height of the season. 
Such were the questions impatiently buzzed about as the 
pony walked round and round in his sheets, and Harold 
Sedbergh, with a loose great-coat thrown over his running 
costume, chatted carelessly with his friends. 

At length it was noised about that there was something 
wrong, that there was some dispute about the course. 
“ Absurd — ridiculous — where would they expect to find a 
more beautiful piece of turf than this? If it was not quite 
as level as a bowling green, they could hardly expect to get 
a better hundred-and-fifty yards anywhere.” 

“ I can’t tell you,” replied an enlightened man who had 
just come out of the stand, “ I only know that it’s New- 
bury making the objection, and that it has been referred to 
the stewards — no, I don’t mean the stewards, but three 
other Johnnies, you know. They’d a lot of trouble to 
catch three fellows who hadn’t a bet on the result.” 

Gradually it oozed out that the dispute was not 
about the course, but whether the race should be run to 
the right or left hand, and that upon that point Mr. 
Lumsden claimed the privilege of choice. The agreement 
had been strictly and accurately drawn up, and as Phil 
pointed out, the choice of course was distinctly left to his 
option, always providing that it should be a perfectly fair 
one to both parties, and that race-courses ran indifferently 
one way or the other. To that the three gentlemen to 
whom by mutual consent it had been referred assented 
at once, but the match was so novel a one that they 
requested some little time to consider before giving their 
decision. 

Clever Jim Newbury had entirely overlooked this point 
when the terms for the match were drawn up, and it was 
not till Lumsden claimed the right of choosing which way 
round the triangle they should run, that he saw what a 
mistake he had made in allowing the insertion of the clause, 


MaMH. 


Choice of course providing it be fair to both parties/^ 
Nobody was more keenly interested in the point at issue 
than the respective trainers, and oddly enough if it had 
been left to them the question might have been amicably 
settled. Langridge knew that he had trained his pony to 
gallop to the right hand, and the Bantam knew that his 
man's time was a trifle better that way round the triangle 
than when he reversed it. After a slight discussion the 
referees gave their verdict, which was that Mr. Lumsden 
was clearly within his rights, and was entitled to say which 
way the race should be run, and to the disappointment of 
both trainers he immediately pronounced to the left hand. 
No further time was wasted — Jim Newbury was much too 
old a sportsman, his objection once decided against him, 
not to at once accept the verdict. The pony was quickly 
stripped and Harold, who was as much bewildered as his 
trainer, threw off his great-coat and walked round to the 
starting-post. 

“ I can see you're both puzzled at my taking the left 
hand, but you may depend on it I am right. If it bothers 
you a little, Sedbergh, it'll bother Newbury's pony a good 
deal more." 

The story of the race is soon told. Harold was . on the 
outer side, and the pony next the rails not only sustained 
his reputation as a quick beginner, but at the end of the 
first fifty yards had decidedly the best of it. But then 
came Sedbergh's opportunity, the pony ran out a good deal 
more than was usual in his lessons at home, and, crossing 
behind him, Harold was round the post and away over the 
second fifty yards at his best pace, arriving at the second 
turn with a pronounced lead. From that moment the race 
was virtually over. The pony once more ran out and the 
jockey seemed as much bothered as his mount, and though 
they were catching their antagonist at the finish, it was 
too late, and Harold ran in the winner by eight or ten 
yards. 

“You've won again," said Jim Newbury, with an easy 
smile, “ my pony’s really clever, but the left-handed course 
put him out a bit. It would have been a nearer thing the 
other way round, though I'm not sure you wouldn't have 
beaten me all the same." 

5 * 


68 


A FAMILY FAILING, 


“ Perhaps so/’ said Lumsden, ‘‘ but my man’s a bit 
better that way too.” 

Then came the congratulations of the winners, and much 
elation on the part of Lumsden and Harold at having got 
the better of the astute Jim Newbury. Even the losers 
could not help laughing over the results of a contest 
between two such very wide-awake gentlemen as the makers 
of this match. 

There was much rejoicing when the news reached Kil- 
mington, for Kilmington had long ago claimed Harold 
Sedbergh as one of its own athletes, and, like all country 
towns, took much interest in the success of one of its own 
celebrities, and in his college days, Harold had figured 
conspicuously in University sports. Even at Doctor 
Radley’s there was much pride in the victory, mingled 
though it was with fear of what -disastrous consequences 
might ensue to the victor. Still, winner or loser he would 
have gained the same notoriety and figured quite as con- 
spicuously in the papers. At Enderby, the Squire was 
about as amiable as a man with a sharp attack of the gout 
may be expected to be. He had most assuredly not yet 
arrived at that composed and happy frame of mind which 
the doctor had predicted, and in the meantime he made no 
allusion to his son ; the papers were placed on his table as 
usual, but whether he read them they could not tell. If 
he did, he could not help seeing the account of Harold’s 
exploit, but he made no allusion to it, although, as Harold 
had foreseen, the victor was credited with having won a 
large sum on the result. 

Still, as the acute pain gradually yielded to the doctor’s 
remedies, Ralph Sedbergh perceptibly calmed down. Those 
about him found him less irritable and more tolerant about 
any delay or mistake in complying with his wishes than they 
had ever known him. The doctor also noticed it after the 
manner with which we all see our predictions realized. But 
he also observed that the attack was of a more serious 
nature than he had at first anticipated, that he had no 
sooner subdued it in one place than it shewed a strong 
tendency to break out in another, in fact the patient was 
going through a series of fits of the gout, with intervals it 
is true in which he was calm and free from pain, but all of 


THE MATCH. 


69 


which gradually reduced his strength, and Dr. Radley, 
who in the first instance had honestly thought that his old 
friend would eventually be a gcod deal better for the out- 
break, began now to look rather serio”.sly upon the case. 
‘‘His strength’s desperately reduced,” he muttered “and 
if the disease shews a tendency to assert itself in a vital part, 
in Ralph Sedbergh’s present state that would very likely be 
a case of ‘ touch and go.’ ” Tractable though the invalid was, 
the doctor still did not dare to mention Harold’s name to 
him, and though Mrs. Radley and Bessie were exceedingly 
curious on the subject, the doctor could tell them nothing 
as to what Ralph Sedbergh’s feelings were towards his son. 

As for Bessie, she had received but one letter from 
Harold since the match, and this she had not thought 
proper to show to either her father or mother, although 
the writer had been pretty explicit as to his feelings regard- 
ing herself. He thanked her for all the trouble she had 
taken, assured her that his victory was due mainly to 
herself, and that, let rumour say what it would to the 
contrary, he had not a sixpence on the match. “ I ran it,” 
he continued, “ partly to oblige a friend, and a good deal 
out of pique. I was very anxious to beat Jim Newbury, but 
I don’t want anyone, more especially your father, or your- 
self, to think that I am a gambler. Some of these days, 
Bessie, I hope to ask you tor yourself, but for the present 
I have to discover how I’m to earn my own living. Will you 
wait for me, Bessie ? Though it must be some time yet, 
dearest, before I have a home to offer you.” 

Looked at from a common-sense point of view, there 
was really nothing in this rhapsody of a hot-headed young 
man to make the girl the least happy, and yet Bessie 
Radley went singing about the house as if she had 
no idea that the young prince was disinherited. True, 
she did not positively know this, but from what he had 
said himself, and from what her father had told her, she 
might fairly conclude that he would be in no position to 
marry her during Ralph Sedbergh’s lifetime. 

With the decision of the match, Bessie’s object in the 
morning rides, or rather drives as they had been latterly, 
had disappeared, and though there was no occasion now 
for such early rising, yet she dearly loved accompanying her 


?0 


A FAMILY Failing. 


father on his rounds these fresh summer mornings, and 
was constantly his companion to Enderby Hall, walking 
her horse up and down outside while he paid his daily 
visit to his old friend. 


CHAPTER XL 

DEATH OF RALPH SEDBERGH. 

One morning, as the doctor was paying his customary visit, 
Ralph Sedbergh suddenly remarked abruptly, “You've, of 
course, seen this ridiculous match of Harold's in the paper, 
and further that he's won a lot of money over it. It's a 
pity, he'll never keep it ; there's not much chance for a 
man when he once turns gambler. As soon as I found 
he was in with the Derrington people, it was easy to 
foretell what would come to pass." 

“ I think and trust you’re wrong," rejoined the doctor, 
gently ; “ that Harold has played there's no doubt, and lost 
more money likely than he's won, but I should be very 
sorry to look upon him as a confirmed gambler." 

“ It's like opium eating," said Ralph meditatively, “ you 
soon become its slave. Look at Lady Newbury, I don’t 
suppose that woman could sleep without her game at cards, 
and her son in the Guards is just as bad." 

“ Yes, but it don't follow because a young man has been 
foolish once he's to continue his folly all the days of his 
life. Believe me, you'll find Harold no gambler. You’re 
going on very nicely, keep yourself as quiet as possible, and 
now I must be off." 

“ You’re always in such a hurry to be off," rejoined the 
invalid pettishly ; “ you might spare an old friend a quarter 
of an hour. You can't think what dull work it is lying 
here, chained either to the bed or the sofa." 

“ You mustn't say that," replied the doctor gently. “I 
sit by too many weary bedsides in the course of my rounds 
not to know. But my daughter rode over with me, and 
I've already kept her waiting a good- half hour." 

“ What ! Bessie ? I don't think I've seen her since 
she’s done with school. I'm told she’s grown up a 
very pretty girl — she promised to, as a child." 


DEATH OF EALPH SEDBEROH. 


71 


“She’s a good-looking wench enough,” rejoined the 
doctor, shortly. “ And now once more, good-bye.” 

“ Stop ! I should like to see her. Ask her next time 
she comes to do a good-natured thing and pay a very bored 
invalid a visit. She won’t be in such a confounded hurry 
as you always are, and have time to tell one some of the 
gossip of the neighbourhood.” 

“ I will tell her,” said the doctor drily, rather taken 
aback, and much perplexed about the advisability of Bessie 
paying such a visit. 

He turned the matter over in his own mind as they rode 
homewards. He did not wish that Ralph Sedbergh should 
be able to say that he, for one moment, countenanced a 
match between Bessie and his son. At last he told his 
daughter of the invalid’s request. 

“ I’m pleased he’s asked for me,” replied the girl, “ he 
has never seen me to know me, I believe, since I left 
school. His last recollection of me must be that of a 
long-legged girl with a passion for all boy’s pursuits and 
her dress always in tatters.” 

“ And you think we’ve improved upon all that,” replied 
the doctor, laughing. 

“ i' should like Mr. Sedbergh to see that I’ve turned 
respectable now I’m grown up,” rejoined Bessie demurely ! 
“ besides, joking apart, papa, it’s just possible I may be of 
some use if I get on with the Squire.” 

“ Remember,” said the doctor peremptorily, “ you’re not 
to mention Harold’s name under any circumstances. You 
promise me that ? ” 

Bessie willingly gave the required pledge, but it was not 
very likely she would touch on so delicate a subject of her own 
accord. But she did wish to produce a favourable impres- 
sion on Mr. Sedbergh, and looking upon that as impossible 
unless he saw something of her, was jubilant at the idea 
of these visits. She had perhaps never heard of that 
wealthy individual who left all his fortune to the only one 
of several nephews whom he had not seen, disliking all those 
he had. Bessie accompanied her father the next day, and 
so well did she get on with the invalid that she became a 
constant visitor. She had naturally more time to spare 
than her father could aiford, and she did not grudge doing 


72 


A FAMILY FAILING. 


her best to lighten the weary hours of sickness for Harold^s 
father. The passionate man of the past was hardly to be 
recognised in the subdued man of the present, and the 
doctor began to get uneasy at finding his prediction so 
amply verified. He would have preferred to see an occa- 
sional outburst of the old choleric temper, rather than this 
languid indifference which he felt sure was the result of 
weakness and prostration. Ralph Sedbergh in these days 
would lie very still while Bessie talked or read to him. 
His head was clear enough, as the shrewd remarks he some- 
times made amply testified, but he did not talk much ; but 
chary though he was of conference it was manifest he took 
great pleasure in the presence of his young visitor. The 
expected allusion to Harold was so long coming that Bessie 
began at length to think that his son’s name would never 
again pass Ralph Sedbergh’s lips. But one day she was 
startled by his saying abruptly: ^‘You hear from Harold 
sometimes, no doubt ? 

She felt her face flush painfully ; often as she had expected 
some such allusion, she had never thought of its taking 
that shape. She was confused and angry with herself that 
she could not prevent the tell-tale blood dyeing her cheeks, 
and was moreover conscious that her interrogator was 
taking keen note of her confusion. “Sometimes,” she 
faltered at length. 

“ Have you heard from him lately ? 

“ Yes, not very long ago.” 

“ Ah, singing paeans of joy over his foolish victory, ex- 
ulting at having discovered this new way to pay old debts.” 

“ Indeed, Mr. Sedbergh, he said nothing of the kind. 
He was pleased at having won this match for his friends, 
but, as far as he was concerned, I’ve his own word for it 
he was not a penny the richer.” 

“ He said that ? ” 

“Yes, and I believe him,” rejoined Bessie hotly, “what- 
ever the papers may say to the contrary.” 

“No doubt,” replied the invalid dr ly ; “ but you’re so far 
right ; we’re vile tempered and have plenty of other faults 
besides, but we Sedberghs don’t lie. I suppose you do 
believe what Harold tells you ? ” 

Once more Bessie coloured at the marked intention 


DEATH OF KALPH SEDBEROH. 


73 


which Mr. Sedbergh gave to the latter part of the 
sentence. 

“ I am sure Harold wouldn^t tell me an untruth/’ she 
replied. 

“ I should hope not. I hope, at all events, that he has 
never told you he will be a rich man. There, that will 
do,” he said quickly, “we have had more than enough 
talk about him and his follies,” said the invalid wearily ; 
“let’s change the subject.” 

Bessie did not think it expedient to tell her father of 
this conversation. In the first place, she had promised 
that no allusion to Harold should pass her lips, and though 
it had been no fault of her own, still he might feel annoyed 
that there had been talk concerning him between his 
father and herself, and secondly, she had never confided to 
the doctor that she had heard from Harold since the match. 
Bessie was quite aware that she grew in favour day by day, 
and now no morning went by without her passing an hour 
or two in the invalid’s room. One thing perplexed her , 
he never again referred to Harold, and it seemed as if 
with that curt “ Let’s change the subject,” he had dismissed 
it entirely from his mind. Her father, though he said 
nothing, was growing very uneasy about his patient. The 
various attacks had taken a great deal out of him, and 
though he bore his illness with the patience those having 
previous knowledge of him could have hardly credited, 
yet the doctor could not shut his eyes to the fact that this 
was in some measure due to his extreme prostration. He 
was getting, moreover, rather despondent about the prospect 
of his ultimate recovery. 

“ Doctor,” he said abruptly, one day, “ I’m not more 
afraid of death than my neighbours, but it is as well to have 
a little time to square one’s accounts in this world. Re- 
member, I’ve left it to you to warn me when my days are 
numbered.” 

“Pooh, pooh!” replied the doctor cheerily, “you 
mustn’t get such ideas into your head. I’ll have you on 
your legs again in a few weeks, and better than you’ve been 
for years, owing to this short attack. But above all, my 
dear old friend, don’t give way to despondency ; why I’ve 
heard medical men who have been in India say, that when 


74 


A FAMILY FAILTNa 


a native has made up his mind that he^s going to die, the 
whole College of Surgeons couldn^t save him, although 
perhaps there was nothing the matter with him/^ 

But although the doctor might speak thus cheerily and 
hopefully to Ralph Sedbergh, he actually thought that if he 
had matters to put straight in this world it would be as 
well that he should attend to them. The gout, at times, 
despatches its victims with remarkable celerity, still he did 
not like to increase the depression under which his patient 
was apparently labouring. And then he thought, if it 
wasn’t that he feared throwing Ralph Sedbergh into a fit 
of dangerous excitement, how he should like to suggest 
that he hoped he would part, at all events, in charity with 
his son. Then, too, there was this unfortunate entangle- 
ment between Harold and his daughter. The doctor was 
a high-spirited man, and he shrank from the idea that he 
might be accused of endeavouring to serve his own interests 
in any attempt to bring about a reconciliation between 
father and son. 

“It’s a very awkward case,” he muttered; “he wants 
building up, the strength’s so knocked out of him, and yet 
the usual props to the system are very likely to bring on 
another attack. It’s awkward — very awkward.” 

One morning, on paying her usual visit to the invalid, 
Bessie was a good deal puzzled when, the usual greetings 
over, Mr. Sedbergh took a packet from the table at his side 
and said : 

“I’ve a favour to ask you, Bessie; I want you to take 
care of this for me, and, unless I ask you for it back, to 
comply with the instructions written outside. They are very 
simple, you see. This is the fifteenth of July. The packet 
is addressed to you, and you’re requested to open it this 
day twelvemonth and comply with the directions therein 
contained.” 

“ I will do as you wish, Mr. Sedbergh,” replied Bessie, 
as she took the packet, “ but surely my father or (she had 
nearly blurted out Harold) — or somebody else would be a 
fitter person than me.’' 

“ I happen to think I am the best judge of that,” he 
rejoined, curtly. “You promise faithfully to do what I ask 
of you ? ” 


DEATH OF KALPH SEDBERGH. 


75 


“ Yes,” returned the girl nervously, if you think it 
best.” 

She felt that that packet concerned Harold, and ought 
properly to be in his keeping. 

“And further, you promise,” he exclaimed abruptly, 
almost sternly, “that you will not let a soul know that 
paper is in your keeping until the date when you are 
authorised to open it. Promise me that too.” 

She hesitated for a moment, she felt a little confused. 
She was sure Harold's interests were bound up in that 
packet. What if she should be working him harm in 
keeping this secret to herself? Oh! how she wished it 
had been left to her father, or an older head than her own 
to decide what it was best to do in this case. 

Ralph Sedbergh looked keenly at her, and read the con- 
flict going on in her mind aright. 

“Promise,” he said, almost fiercely, “or I swear Til 
destroy it at once, and you will have the satisfaction of 
knowing that you've done more harm than you'll ever 
put straight.'' 

“I promise,” she rejoined, “that no one shall know 
that I have this packet in my possession, till the time 
appointed.” 

“ Good ! ” rejoined Sedbergh. “ I think I can trust you ; 
now let me hear no more about it,” and he abruptly changed 
the subject. 

Dr. Radley was getting more and more exercised in his 
mind about his patient. He was still loth to admit that he 
was so seriously ill as in his heart he believed, but he did 
know that his brothers ought to be informed of his state, 
and above all his son ; and yet, as we know, he had reasons 
which made him very disinclined to write to Harold if he 
could avoid it. It was made more difficult for him too, 
from Ralph Sedbergh manifesting a considerable touch of 
his old choleric temperament again. Even with Bessie, in 
whose hands he was by far the most tractable, he would 
manifest a considerable amount of feverishness and irrita- 
bility, and with the other satellites of his sick room he was 
by no means so tolerant as he had been in those early days 
succeeding his attack. The doctor was quite aware that 
whatever Greeqwood, the solicitor, had been wanted to dq 


76 


A FAMILY FAILINa. 


at the Hall, he had most certainly not been sent for to 
undo it. He had never been summoned to Enderby since 
its master’s illness. The doctor’s perplexities were speedily 
terminated. One morning, at daybreak, a messenger 
arrived from the Hall requesting his immediate presence, 
as Mr. Sedbergh was much worse and, they thought, dying. 
Hastening to his friend’s bedside, the doctor sadly 
recognised that the attendants were only too correct in 
their surmise ; the gout had flown to Ralph Enderby’s 
head, and there was little probability of any but one 
termination to the attack. There were a few incoherent 
mutterings from time to time, but for the most part the 
sufferer was unconscious. The strong, wilful, eccentric 
brain had collapsed. When the eyes opened, there was only 
a dull, wandering recognition of those they looked upon — 
all chance of recovery the doctor knew was hopeless. That 
he might lie there breathing, but insensible, for a few days 
before all was over, was very possible. 

Bessie, who of course learnt what had happened at 
breakfast, cantered over at her usual hour to the Hall to 
enquire after its master. Her father came down to see her 
as soon as she arrived, and said : 

“ My dear girl, it’s all but over ; poor Ralph Enderby 
will never speak to us more, nor, I fear, recognize any one 
of us again.” 

The girl burst out crying, for she had grown fond of the 
sick man, in a way. There was his evident partiality for 
herself, and then again, was he not Harold’s father ? 
Although ill and requiring careful nursing, she had never 
recognized that Ralph Sedbergh was in danger ; her father 
had concealed his anxiety on that point, indeed, had tried 
hard not to admit it to himself, and she saw more than ever 
now the responsibility she incurred by keeping the secret 
of this packet for a twelvemonth. She resolved to wait and 
ride home with her father. Slowly the morning dragged 
away, but, absorbed in her own thoughts, she scarce took 
note of the passing hours. Suddenly her father entered 
the room. 

“ Bessie,” he said softly, “poor Sedbergh has a gleam of 
returning consciousness ; he evidently recognizes us, has 
murmured your name and looked anxiously round for you. 


DEATH OF KALPH SEDBERGH. 


77 


No, it^s no favourable symptom, it is but the last flicker of 
the candle, but, if you think you can control your feelings, 
it might soften his last moments just to see you for a minute 
or two at his bedside/^ 

“ You can trust me,’' replied the girl, as she rose and 
followed her father to Ralph Sedbergh’s chamber. 

A gleam of recognition flashed across the dying man's 
face as his eyes fell upon Bessie, he made an inarticulate 
attempt to speak, raised his hands as if about to emphasize 
what he was about to say, and in the midst of the incom- 
pleted gesture, a shudder ran through his frame, and the 
spirit of the Lord of Enderby had fled. Bessie alone 
understood the dead man's unfinished gesture, and guessed 
the w^ord he had striven so hard to say. As her father led 
her from the room she knew that Ralph Sedbergh’s lips had 
striven to utter “ Remember ” and that he would fain have 
placed his finger upon them, to emphasize the word. 


CHAPTER XIL 

THE READING OF THE WILL. 

The match once finished, Harold lost no time in hunt- 
ing up his uncle Aleck, and told him at once that he 
was quite willing to begin any manner of work that he 
could obtain for him. 

“ Now," returned that gentleman, “if you really mean 
business. I've got an opening for you in my own line. It's 
not a very big salary as yet, but there are hundreds of 
young men who would jump at such an opening, for in 
journalism, like all other professions, a man doesn’t begin at 
the top, and it rests with himself to show what he's worth 
in the market." 

“ My dear uncle Aleck," replied Harold, “ I'm only too 
willing to do my best at this or anything else ; that awful 
question you put to me the other day of, ‘ what can you 
do ? ' has effectually knocked all the conceit out of me." 

“ Well, you might reply, you know, ‘ Run a hundred and 
fifty yards ratfier tidily/ but a professional pedestrian is ^ 


78 


A FAMILY FAILING. 


little infra dig. for a Sedbergh. Still, it so happens your 
athletic proclivities may stand you in good stead. There’s 
a daily paper of very good standing, that, though not a 
sporting journal, makes rather a feature of having all that 
sort of thing very well reported. But remember, they want 
it done in a high tone, and with no more of the argot than 
is absolutely necessary. You will simply have to go where 
they send you, and describe what you see, and if, as I said 
before, your salary is small in the first instance, it depends 
upon yourself to double it in a very short time.” 

Harold warmly thanked his uncle, and set to work in the 
interest of The Guiding Star forthwith. He worked hard 
and conscientiously, and having had the advantages of a 
University education, soon found that he could satisfy his 
employers by writing animated descriptions of the different 
sporting events he was sent to witness. The employment 
was good for him, and it was with a feeling of great satis- 
faction that he found he was at last independent of his father, 
and could earn his own living. True, he must live in a very 
different fashion to what he had hitherto done, and must make 
his earnings go as far as possible, while, as to when that income 
would expand to an extent capable of maintaining two, 
seemed at present a very far-off event, and involved in a 
dim futurity. 

Suddenly burst upon Harold, like a thunderclap, the news 
of his father’s illness and death. He was strangely 
moved by the intelligence, and deeply regretted that their 
final parting should have been with bitter anger on both 
sides. He supposed he ought to have been more patient, 
and remembered that after all it was his father who spoke, 
still he was conscious of having been treated with great 
injustice, and, about that matter of the entail, considered 
that he had been brought up in most unjust ignorance. 

He travelled down to Enderby with his two uncles, both 
of whom were as much shocked and surprised as himself. 
They had seen nothing of Ralph for some years. The 
Hall offered few attractions; they were both confirmed 
Londoners, the one from his avocations, and the other 
too wedded to club-land and Pall Mall to ever leave the 
Metropolis except under peremptory orders from his 
medical advisejr. 


THE READINH OF THE WILL. 


79 


“ Dooce of a go this ! Poor Ralph ! it^s quite upset me 
I declare. When you’ve gout in the family, it’s no use 
denying the fact. Poor fellow ! Amongst all his cranks 
and fancies, the oddest was that he was to escape the 
hereditary curse, and now by Jove ! it’s killed him.” 

“ Yes,” replied Aleck, ‘^no Sedbergh can expect to escape. 
Even you, Harold, will come to the family inheritance in 
time,” and then uncle Aleck mentally cursed his imprudent 
tongue, as he remembered that it was more than probable 
that when they came to read the dead man’s will, it might 
turn out that that was the sum total of poor Harold’s in- 
heritance. He, as we know, was aware of the unfortunate 
terms on which the young man had parted from his father, 
and, though hoping for the best, thought it exceedingly 
likely that his crotchety, eccentric brother had made a very 
unjust disposition of his property. As for Captain John, 
although perfectly aware that Ralph could leave it to whom 
he liked, it never occurred to him that Enderby would go 
ot anybody else than he legitimate heir. With him, this 
was nothing more than a sad and conventional ceremony. 
The world expects us to attend the obsequies of our near 
relations, but there had been no such deep affection between 
him and Ralph that he could affect to be deeply cut up at 
his unexpected decease. It might be doubted now-a-days 
whether Captain John indeed had strong sympathies for 
anyone. On arrival at the Hall, they found that all 
preparations for the funeral had been made by Mr. Green- 
wood. That gentleman, finding Captain John and his 
brother were anxious to return to London as soon as 
possible, suggested that the will should be read imme- 
diately after the funeral, and, with a view to that end, 
accordingly, Ralph Sedbergh having been laid to rest in the 
tomb of his ancestors, the mourners assembled in the 
dining-room for this latter ceremony. 

Mr. Greenwood produced the will, which was dated some 
two months back, and was as brief as legal technicalities 
would allow, whereby the testator, in consequence of the 
complete defiance of his wishes and commands by his son 
Harold, bequeathed Enderby Manor, together with the Hall, 
furniture, plate, carriages and all other personalty, to his 
brother Captain John Sedbergh, without reserve. 


80 


A FAMILY FAILiNG. 


‘‘ Damnation I ” exclaimed the astonished inheritor, and 
it may be hoped that upon this occasion the profanity was 
not registered against him. ‘‘ It’s infamous, that’s what it 
is. Poor old Ralph must have been off his head when he 
made such a last will and testament as that, and what in 
Heaven’s name,” he continued, turning on the attorney, 
“ were you about, sir, to write down such ridiculous 
rubbish ? ” 

“ Mr. Ralph Sedbergh’s head was as clear as my own,” 
rejoined Mr. Greenwood icily, “when he instructed me 
about that will, and my late client was not at all in the 
habit of asking for advice about the management of his 
affairs.” 

“It’s perfectly absurd,” said Captain John angrily. 
“ Nothing can persuade me that Ralph didn’t mean that 
the youngster there should follow him at Enderby Hall 
when he was gone.” 

“ My dear uncle,” interposed Harold, “ it’s very kind of 
you to say this, but Mr. Greenwood has made no mistake 
about my father’s intentions. We quarrelled last spring, 
because I would not promise to comply with his peremptory 
commands on a matter of much importance to me. I did 
not know,” he continued with a bitter smile, “that Enderby 
was at his entire disposal, but Mr. Penge enlightened me a 
few weeks later.” 

“ You’re right, John ! ” said Aleck Sedbergh. “ It is not 
a just will, but for all that I have no doubt it accurately 
represents poor Ralph’s intentions.” 

“ It’s a perfectly good will,” interposed the solicitor, who 
was still on his mettle at the attack made on him by 
Captain John. “ Mr. Ralph Sedbergh was as perfectly 
capable of making a will or transacting business as he ever 
was in his life. That a man is queer tempered and disposes 
of his property in an unexpected way does not suffice to in- 
validate his will.” 

“ Nobody is suggesting anything of the kind 1 ” exclaimed 
Harold a little sharply. 

“ Excuse me,” replied Mr. Greenwood somewhat hotly, 
“that is just what Captain Sedbergh is suggesting.” 

“ I have one suggestion to make, sir,” cried Captain John, 
with the family temper now at its highest within him. 


THE EEADINH OF THE WILL. 


81 


“ This house according to your own shewing is mine, and 
the performance of your duties being now over, I see 
nothing further to detain you/’ 

Mr. Greenwood sprang sharply to his feet, and his pale face 
flushed as he retorted, “ My late client at all events knew 
how to behave to a professional man, which is more than I 
can say of his successor.” 

“ Don’t know how to treat an attorney ? ” roared the now 
infuriated Captain, springing to his feet. ‘‘ By Gad ! you 
shall see, sir,” and if it hadn’t been for the prompt inter- 
position of his brother and nephew, the Captain would have 
conducted the solicitor’s exit in such high-handed fashion 
as would inevitably have entailed an action for assault and 
battery. 

Doctor Radley when, later on, he came to hear an account 
of the reading of the will, never could help regretting that 
a professional call prevented his being present at such a 
grand illustration of the family failing. 

If Captain John had pronounced himself upset by his 
brother’s sudden death, he really was upset in good earnest 
now. The coming into Enderby was as unwelcome as it 
was unexpected. An indolent and rather selfish man, 
living in a somewhat narrow circle, he had a strong sense 
of right and wrong according to his lights, and he con- 
sidered Harold to have been most unjustly dealt with ; 
gambling, no doubt, was the offence which his father had 
deemed so unpardonable, but to leave his only son positively 
penniless because he, yielding to temptation, had indulged in 
one of the popular vices of the day, was punishment out of 
all proportion to the offence. Ralph might have recollected 
that he had succumbed to a like weakness in his younger 
days. Surely he couldn’t have forgotten the row he had 
had with his father about the very same thing — true he’d 
had some years to testify he had done with such follies 
before the sceptre of Enderby fell vacant, but his sire had 
left Ralph the property unconditionally, although it had 
been quite as much in his power to deal with as he liked, 
as it had been with the latter. “ Confound it,” he said, as 
he paced the platform of the Junction with his brother on 
their way back to Town, “ I don’t want the property, I wish 
Ralph had never left it to me. I’m like a fish out of water 

6 


A £'AM1LY failing* 


8li 

out of London. IVe a good mind to hand the whole thing 
over to Harold/’ 

“You can’t quite do that/* returned Aleck. “A will’s a 
will, and I doubt if Harold would accept that solution 
of the difficulty.” 

“ Nobody will do what I want ’em,’* growled the Captain 
testily. 

“Nonsense, John, it might have been a deal worse. In 
his wrath Ralph might have left the property to a stranger, 
as it is, you can put things straight if you like. There's no 
reason you shouldn’t make Harold a decent allowance, and 
remember you can leave Enderby to whom you like-” 

“You’ve hit it,” replied the Captain, brightening up; 
“ the very thing. What a head you have, Aleck. Of 
course — I’ll put Harold down here, and make him a 
handsome allowance to keep up the Hall and manage the 
property.” 

“ Excellent,” rejoined his brother, “give him something 
to do and keep him out of mischief.” 

Now all this seemed to Aleck Sedbergh a most satis- 
factory arrangement, but he had quite forgotten one thing, 
namely, that the rupture between Harold and his father 
had been not on account of the former’s gambling, 
but on account of his strongly expressed determination 
to marry Bessie Radley, and that his brother John had 
no idea that Harold had contemplated anything of that 
kind, but believed him to be disinherited solely on the 
former account. Aleck had told his nephew at the time 
that he could hardly expect his father’s approval of such a 
marriage, that he would naturally expect a daughter-in-law 
who would bring money to prop up an estate much 
deteriorated in value. But in the notoriety Harold had 
obtained for himself by the match, Aleck Sedbergh had 
quite lost sight of the prime cause of the quarrel. It had 
never occurred to him that when this determination of 
Harold’s was announced, as sooner or later it must be, to 
Captain John, that he might have not only a strong opinion 
on the subject, but perhaps a prejudice against it as violent 
as poor Ralph’s, and further that Harold was no more likely 
to give in to his uncle on this point than he had been to 
his father. However, for the present, Aleck Sedbergh was 


THE READma OE THE WILL. 


83 


blind to all this, and simply extremely pleased at the way 
his brother had behaved over the whole affair. 

But this was exactly the view Harold took of the question 
as soon as he heard of Captain John's proposal. He said 
that he was now in a fair way to earn his own living. He was 
not making very much at present, but there was no reason, 
if he stuck to his work, that he shouldn't make a fair income 
in the future. That it was very kind of his uncle to make 
him that offer, but — and there was a big “ but " in it — it 
was only fair to say that he was engaged to a young lady, 
and was determined to stick to that engagement come 
what might. That had been the real cause of his quarrel 
with his father, and it was quite likely that his uncle might 
equally disapprove of such a marriage. Then, of course, 
came the disclosure of the lady’s name, and the Captain was 
found to be quite as hostile to such a marriage as Ralph 
Sedbergh himself. 

“ Gad ! you know, Aleck," he said, ‘‘ it's all nonsense. 
A young fellow like Harold owes something to his family. 
It's all very well his falling in love with the first pretty face 
he comes across, but when it comes to marrying, a Sedbergh 
— especially nowadays — is bound to go in for money and 
connection. We've been going rather down-hill of late; it 
was all very well to muddle along as Ralph did, seeing 
nobody, but that's not the way Enderby ought to be kept 
up. I want to see it, or at all events hear of it, full of 
company — its stables full of horses — and Harold hand and 
glove with all the best people in the county. He ought to 
consider all these things. By Jove! if he won’t I'll wash 
my hands of him.” 

“I agree with you, John,” said the other, ‘‘an injudicious 
engagement. “ She's a pretty girl and a good girl.” 

“ But d it all, she's the daughter of a country doctor,” 

interposed the choleric Captain. “ Ralph wouldn't give his 
consent to it, no more will I.” And really, from the violent 
manner in which the Captain finished his speech and dashed 
his fist upon the table, one might have thought for a moment 
that country doctors were social pariahs. 

Now one curious trait of the family complaint was that it 
was highly provocative of a contradictory spirit. Aleck 
Sedbergh, in the first instance, had taken very much Ralph's 

6 * 


84 


A FAMILY FAILING. 


view of his nephew^s engagement, but now that he found 
John had violently adopted the same opinion, he turned 
round and felt inclined to back up the delinquent. 

“ Don't forget Harold's got quite his share of the family 
temper," he observed a little testily. 

“The Sedberghs, as a rule, are not given to changing 
their mind ; I should have thought our opinion would have 
been one in this matter. At all events I shall show the 
family firmness about it." 

“ Family obstinacy," retorted Aleck sharply. 

“ That is my affair, and nobody else's ; we'd better give 
up discussing it," said the Captain, tingling to the very tips 
of his fingers with indignation. “ I should know what I 
think right." 

“ And which everybody else will think wrong," retorted 
Aleck Sedbergh, now nearly as angry as his brother, but he 
just retained enough self-possession to see that he and John 
were on the verge of a violent quarrel, and as he did not 
wish this, he bade him an abrupt good-bye, and hastily left 
his brother's rooms, where the above conversation had taken 
place. 

“Poor Harold," he muttered, as he gained the street, 
“ he's pretty much as his father left him — as far off the 
property as ever. John may change his mind, but obstinacy 
is one of the family attributes. 


A SliMSTER RUMOUR. 


85 


CHAPTER XIIL 

SINISTER RUMOUR.'* 

It was of course known now to all Kilmington that Captain 
John Sedbergh had inherited Enderby Manor. How it had 
all come about the good people of the little country town 
did not quite understand. They probably had not thought 
very much about it, for still had always supposed that 
Harold would succeed his father at the Hall, and how it 
came about that Captain John was now its legal lord 
puzzled them a good deal. Their notions of the law of 
entail were for the most part hazy, but that landed property 
went from father to son was a fixed belief with most of 
them. 

The Doctor had not heard that account of the reading of 
the will at this time, and still less would he have laughed at 
it if he had ; but he knew the state of affairs, and could 
quite understand how John Sedbergh had become master 
of Enderby. He was very sorry for Harold, not at all on 
account of his daughter, for he had some doubts as to 
whether a marriage was a thing to be desired between those 
two. It was not so much the insufficiency of means that he 
dreaded, but he had lingering misgivings that Harold had 
imbibed a taste for betting and high play, which was apt to 
render no income sufficient. Still, it was hard upon a 
young man to be deprived of his inheritance for what might 
turn out, after all, to be but the folly of youth. Bessie had 
kept her last letter to herself, it must be remembered, and 
Doctor Radley, though he had stood up for Harold in that 
brief conversation he had had concerning him with the 
Sqnire, like all the world, believed him to have won a large 
sum of money over the match. 

Harold meanwhile stuck manfully to his work in a way 
that astonished his Uncle Aleck, and only confirmed 
Captain John’s opinion of his nephew’s obstinate disposition. 
The Captain, indeed, was sorely troubled with his new 
position as head of the family. An indolent man about 


A milLY FAILING. 


Town, without a care in the world, save when afflicted by 
the family complaint, he had hitherto left all management of 
his affairs to his bankers, or, on such rare occasions as it 
became necessary, to Messrs. Penge and Carboy. If he 
had not a large income it amply sufficed for his wants, 
and now he declared he was worried to death in the manage- 
ment of a good-sized landed property. In consequence of 
what he denominated Harold’s pigheadedness, he had 
been compelled to appoint an agent to look after the estate, 
and he declared that the local man he had appointed 
bothered his life out about renewal of leases, putting up 
new buildings for the tenants, and all sorts of suggestions 
for the improvement of the property, till the irritable 
Captain declared he had never had a moment’s peace since 
he came into it. It was hard upon a man at his time of life 
to be nearly driven mad by the preposterous will of a still 
more preposterous brother — that he only wished Enderby 
was at Jericho, that it really was hard lines that a quiet man 
like himself should be mixed up in a family quarrel. And 
here the Captain’s language was wont to get so very pro- 
nounced that even his cronies wondered at his audacity in 
laying claim to a pacific disposition. These intimate 
friends, too — as intimate friends will do sometimes — added 
not a little to his discomfort. They told him he would 
have to marry now, and, worse still, several matrons of his 
acquaintance, mothers of eligible daughters who were past 
their first youth, began to shower invitations upon the master 
of Enderby. A well-preserved man of middle age, hale and 
hearty, barring the gout, possessed of a nice place in the 
country and a very fair income to keep it up, many of these 
ladies thought it would be good that Captain Sedbergh 
should marry, and were certain that they could find him a 
perfectly suitable wife. 

Captain John, though he had never been married, was 
quite as averse to matrimony as Mr. Weller, senior, after 
trying the experiment; so that, all things considered, the 
new lord of Enderby was not exactly enjoying his in- 
heritance. He had himself to thank for some of his 
troubles, for had he not quarrelled with Mr. Greenwood, 
that gentleman, who knew every food of the property, would 
naturally have become his temporary steward. As.it was, 


A SINISTER RUMOUR. 


87 


the new agent had continually to apply to the Captain for 
information on many points. 

Thanks to the crotchety disposition of the family, the 
succession of Enderby at the present moment resembled 
the famous situation of the Critic, There was the present 
lord of the soil anxious to do what he considered the right 
thing, and restore his inheritance to the rightful heir, but 
then it must be upon his own conditions. There was 
Aleck Sedbergh, afraid to tender advice on either side, for 
fear of precipitating a quarrel which he was anxious to 
avoid, and there was Harold, resolute to marry Bessie 
Radley in defiance of the wishes of every one, unless 
perhaps those of the young lady herself. And not one of 
them with the slightest intention of budging from the 
position he had taken up. 

But though all readjustment of Ralph Sedbergh’s 
mistaken will was at a standstill, Harold was shewing a 
dogged perseverance in the calling of his adoption. He 
had thrown up his rooms in the West End, and now 
occupied modest chambers in the neighbourhood of the 
Savoy, which were handy to his work and more suited to 
his means. His clubs knew him no more, and he had dis- 
covered it was possible to dine sufficiently for eighteenpence, 
in the purlieus of Fleet Street. He not only liked his work, 
but did it well ; it took him out of himself and amused him. 
He was continually sent to one place or another to see and 
report upon some event of the day — in short, he was doing 
descriptive reporting, though for the most part of a sporting 
tendency. As he was very fairly paid, to say nothing of a 
very reasonable margin for expenses, Harold was doing well, 
and it may be questioned whether he had not been a more 
impecunious man in his former life than his present. 

In all the fervour of his passion for Bessie, and in his 
stubborn determination to achieve such an income as would 
enable him to marry, he cut down the expenses of those 
excursions on which he was constantly despatched to the 
minimum, and so added in some measure to his slender 
savings. Obstinacy, in the form of tenacity of purpose, 
becomes a virtue, and it is that bull-dog strain in our Anglo- 
Saxon blood which has pulled us through in many a harcj- 
fought fieldt 


88 


A FAMILY FAILING. 


Bessie Radley, too, was also much exercised in her mind 
at this time. She of course knew now, like everyone else, 
that John Sedbergh had succeeded to Enderby, and she 
further knew from her father that Ralph had always 
possessed the power to leave the property to whom he liked. 
Now this packet, which she had promised to keep and say 
nothing about till the following year, in all likelihood made 
a considerable difference to Harold. It was probably, she 
thought, a fresh will revoking that unjust one which had 
been produced by Mr. Greenwood; but then why was a 
twelvemonth to elapse before she was allowed to produce 
it ? She remembered to have read or heard that once in 
possession of a property, the difficulty of ousting the 
assumed proprietor was very considerable. If this was so, 
then every week she kept this paper to herself she would 
be increasing the difficulties Harold would have in recover- 
ing the estate which should have been his. She hardly 
recollected Captain John Sedbergh, but she had always 
heard of him as a passionate, violent man, like all the 
Sedberghs, one who might be expected to fight to the last 
for his rights, and little likely to give up the lands of 
Enderby without a bitter fight. She didn’t know much 
about these things, but she did know that in a legal con- 
test of this nature a long purse was an essential, and 
where was poor Harold to look for money ? She got oc- 
casional letters from him, knew what he was doing, and 
how he was earning his living ; had, indeed, read some of 
his articles and thought them amazingly clever, more so, I 
am afraid, than the general public considered them. 
Still, if he does not succeed in the eyes of his sweetheart, 
where is the ’prentice penman to look for admiration ? 
Still, if this time next year Harold was battling for his 
rights, where were the sinews of war to come from ? and 
if her persistent silence had thrown still further difficulties 
in their recovery she should take much blame to herself. 
But then there was the solemn promise she had given the 
dead man, and he might have had very good and sufficient 
reasons for exacting it. She had asked her father if there 
was any chance of the will Mr. Greenwood had produced 
being disputed, and he had replied promptly: 

‘Not ’he slightest; Harold wouldn’t have a leg to stand 


A SINISTER RUMOUR. 


89 


upon. Ralph Sedbergh^s head, till within a few hours of 
his death, was as clear as ever. In any such case I should 
be a principal witness, and I reluctantly admit that my 
evidence would go clean against him.’’ 

Upon further questioning her father as to what terms 
Captain John and his nephew were upon, the doctor replied, 
laughing : 

“Upon my word I don’t know; it depends chiefly I 
should think, on whether they’ve met lately. The 
Sedberghs never did get on together, and invariably 
quarrelled if they came to see much of each other.” 

But John Sedbergh had not yet come to the end of the 
worries incidental to his new position. Gradually a rumour 
spread about Kilmington that Captain John’s tenure of 
Enderby was precarious ; that he had come into it by an 
accident ; that the will under which he had inherited it 
was only one which Ralph Sedbergh had made in a moment 
of passion. That such a crotchety man as he was was 
likely enough to have left two or three documents of that 
description ; that it was very doubtful whether the one 
which had been proved was the last will he had made, and 
nothing was more likely than that one of later date would 
be discovered sooner or later. This rumour had originated 
with Mr. Greenwood, although he had no intention of 
setting such a report afloat, when he gave utterance to the 
remark that first produced it. As Carlyle says : “ The 
first utterer of a lie can never foresee what dimensions it 
may attain.” Each endorser thereof usually embellishing 
it more or less on his own account. The attorney was 
furious at the way in which he had been treated by John 
Sedbergh ; the Captain had not only theoretically kicked 
him out of his house, but had only been restrained from 
practically doing so by his brother and nephew. Mr. 
Greenwood had for some years acted as steward of the 
Enderby property and not only enjoyed a snug little 
yearly salary, but various pickings and considerable 
patronage. The attorney had been very sore at all this 
being taken away from him ; he had said at the reading of 
the will that it was as valid an instrument as a lawyer 
could draw, and that Ralph Sedbergh was perfectly com- 
petent to give his instructions on the subject. He honestly 


90 


A FAMILY FAILING. 


believed that it was so, and professional pride naturally 
made him stand up for a will of his own preparing. He 
was a vindictive man, and after the turn things had taken, 
only devoutly wished there was any prospect of its being 
set aside, and in a moment of ungovernable spitefulness 
he had so far forgotten the reticence of his calling as to 
say it was not improbable that so passionate and eccen- 
tric a man as Ralph Enderby might have left behind 
him more wills than one. 

The rumour grew apace, and it was now confidently 
stated in Kilmington that there was another will. That it 
had been found, that it had been destroyed ; that, far from 
being owner of Enderby, John Sedbergh ought to be 
expiating the offence of felony in one of Her Majesty^s 
gaols. Others pooh-poohed this as all nonsense, but 
declared that such a will existed, though it had not yet 
been discovered ; there were those who had seen it ; 
there were witnesses to the dead man's signature, but here 
the story again fell a little to pieces, as nobody could say 
who these witnesses might be ; and to tell the truth this 
was the very point which puzzled Bessie. She had learnt 
that witnesses to the testator’s signature were necessary in 
an instrument of this description. If then this packet he 
had entrusted to her contained a will, how was it these wit- 
nesses did not come forward and tender their evidence ? 
Be that as it might, it was quite certain that nobody 
volunteered to do anything of the kind. 

In due course his agent thought proper to acquaint 
Captain John of this report, which at once aroused all the 
combative powers of his nature. He declared he would 
contest the property to the very last extremity. A good 
healthy quarrel had been always a luxury to a Sedbergh, 
and the Captain was positively “spoiling for a fight.” He 
gave instructions to Penge and Carboy to direct his agent 
to at once furnish him with the name of the offender, 
vowed he would make a teriible example of him, and then 
found that all his warlike preparations had been wasted 
upon an intangible opponent. It was irritating in the ex- 
treme to lie under a shadowy threat that you would be 
ejected from your own lands, without being able to arrive at 
who disputed your title to them — it wo\ild have been trying 


A SINISTER RUMOUR. 


91 


to most men, but more especially to one of the Captain’s 
temperament. 

It was no use that Penge and Carboy, after inquiring 
into the matter, exhorted him to take no heed of the idle 
gossip of a country town. Captain John was plunged into 
a state of chronic irritability, and chafed continually at this 
invisible foe with whom there was no possibility of grappling. 
If Ralph Sedbergh had made a queer will, and set every- 
body connected with him by the ears, the Captain’s intimates 
opined that no last testament of his would have a soothing 
effect on the family, while old Billy Pouncett went the 
length of predicting that if this rumour about the disputed 
succession of the Enderby property really came to anything, 
it would worry John Sedbergh either into his grave or a 
lunatic asylum. 


92 


A FAMILY FAILD^G. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

“the opening of the packet.” 

The months slipped gradually away without producing more 
amicable relations between the members of that very 
eccentric race the Sedberghs. Captain John fumed and 
fidgetted himself into more than one fit of the gout because 
he could not ascertain the name of this pretender to his 
estates. He told his intimates that he was cursed with the 
most hopeless idiot as a steward in the United Kingdom, 
and upon its being suggested that perhaps in that case it 
would be advisable to change him, he said, in his usual 
vehement fashion, that there never was such a congregation 
of fools as had got together in this town of Kilmington. 
And yet it was the tittle-tattle of these foolish people that 
was driving him well nigh mad. He harried his unfortunate 
agent to death by continuous and peremptory demands for 
the name of this impostor who claimed Enderby. Deeply 
did the poor man regret that he had ever told his employer 
that such a report was flying about. He could give the 
angry Captain no answer on this point. Who could it be ? 
It could only be Harold — and John Sedbergh vowed that 
he would spend his last shilling before he would surrender 
the lands of Enderby to his nephew. He had only been 
too willing to restore them in part at once, and in total at 
his death, on a very fair and reasonable concession. But 
yield to force? No, not while he’d breath in his body, or a 
cent in his pocket. True, Penge and Carboy told him there 
was not the slightest sign that Harold — or indeed anyone 
else — had any design of disputing the possession of 
Enderby with him. Nonsense, if there was not some 
fraudulent scoundrel in the background, how was it that 
this rumour persistently held its ground? No — Harold it 
must be, and under this impression Captain John Kit more 
angry with his nephew than ever, and equally ill-disposed 
towards Aleck for shewing a disposition to take Harold's 
part, 


THE OPENING OF THE PACKET. 


93 


Now a rumour of this sort is usually a nine days’ wonder 
in most communities, and so it would doubtless have been 
in Kilmington, if it had not been for the malicious mutter- 
ings of Mr. Greenwood. The vindictive attorney had learnt 
that John Sedbergh was seriously disturbed on hearing of 
such a report in the air, and took considerable pains to keep 
it alive, with a view of punishing the Captain for his ill-treat 
ment of himself. It is notorious that men have bragged 
of fictitious deeds of derring-do till they have actually be- 
lieved they were the veritable heroes of the exploits they 
had originally claimed for themselves in a freak of mental 
jest and vanity. George IV. is said at last to have really 
believed that he played a prominent part at Waterloo. In 
the same way a base lie may be told so continuously that 
the utterer at last believes there is some truth in it ; and 
by the spring of the year succeeding Ralph Sedbergh’s 
death, Mr. Greenwood had actually convinced himself of 
the likelihood of his random surmise. The wish, no doubt, 
was father to the thought, for, to avenge himself on John 
Sedbergh, the attorney would willingly have given his pro- 
fessional services gratuitously to any one contesting Enderby 
with him. 

As the year wore on, and the early green of the trees was 
fast merging into the full foliage of sunimer, Bessie began 
to get tremendously excited about the packet in her keep- 
ing. Often as Kilmington gossips proclaimed the fact that 
another will was in existence, nobody ever could pin them to 
that one point. If there was such a will where did they 
suppose it to be? To that question, let the propagator of 
the story be who it might, there was no getting a straight- 
forward reply. The speaker “ didn’t know — but there was 
them as did,” or, more oracularly, “ Never you mind, they’re 
just biding their time.” But still the whole rumour was as 
vague as ever, and Bessie felt convinced that if the packet 
in her keeping did not contain a will, then Ralph Sedbergh 
had left no further deed of that description behind him. 
The fifteenth of July — a bare month now, and the day 
appointed for the opening of that packet will have arrived. 
She had heard occasionally from Harold all this time, short, 
though cheery letters. He was doing well, and absorbed in 
his calling— but one thing noticeable in them was that he 


94 


A FAMILY FAILlNa. 


never made the slightest allusion to Enderby nor the sur- 
rounding neighbourhood. It seemed as if he had entirely 
broken with his past life, and all his old home surroundings. 
Bessie felt grieved at this, for she thoroughly understood 
how bitter his feelings must be at the cruel alienation of his 
heritage, and her heart thrilled with exultation at the 
thought that next month she might place in his hands a 
paper which would restore to him the home of his ancestors. 
To Captain John Sedbergh she had conceived a great dis- 
like, mingled with contempt. She looked upon him as a 
greedy, grasping old curmudgeon, who had only been too 
glad to take advantage of the oppoitunity his brother's un- 
just will had given him, and to have behaved with unexampled 
meanness to Harold since he had come into the property. 
She was quite unaware of the liberal proposals Captain 
John had made in the first instance, though, saddled with 
the condition they were, they might not have seemed so 
liberal in her eyes, even had she known of them. All she 
did know was that Harold had declined to accept all assist- 
ance from his uncle, and was now trusting to his own brains 
for a living. 

How slowly those last three or four weeks seemed to 
pass. Never before in all Bessie’s life had the days seemed 
so long and so tiresome ; she was wild to place that packet 
in Harold’s hands. At last came the thirteenth of July^ 
and, as it dragged its tedious length away, it suddenly 
flashed upon the girl that the day after to-morrow she was 
pledged to give this packet into Harold’s own hands. How 
could she do that if she were in Kilmington and he in 
London ? She could not go there without an explanation to 
her father and mother, and she had promised that no one 
should know of the existence of that packet till the day 
appointed by Ralph Sedbergh. The mouse could not 
go to the lion, the lion must come to the mouse, 
and Bessie accordingly wrote to her lover to say that he 
must be at Kilmington on the fifteenth. “ It is no idle 
whim,” she said, “ believe me, Harold. Although you 
must know I’m longing to see you again, dearest, it is not 
that ; I could wait patiently till you could snatch a day or 
two from the career you have chosen and in which I know 
you are succeeding But, Harold, I believe this to be a 


Me oIpeNjNg 01 ? TiiE PAcKEf. 


P5 

matter of grave importance to you, and I can only fulfil 
the trust I have undertaken by seeing you. I can tell you 
no more, for I am pledged to secrecy for another forty- 
eight hours ; but don’t fail me, Harold. Come, my darling, 
on the day I have named, and if my hopes are only realised, 
no happier girl will lay her liead on the pillow that night 
than, 

“Your own Bessie.” 

Harold Sedbergh wondered very much what had 
happened when he received that letter, but he had a very 
high opinion of his fiaficee's common sense, and felt sure 
that she would never have sent for him’ without good cause. 
He made arrangements for some of his colleagues to do his 
work for him in his brief absence, and started for 
Kilmington by an early train on the morning of the 
fifteenth. Immediately after breakfast on that day, Bessie 
produced the packet and told her story to her father. The 
doctor got extremely excited over it, and his curiosity to 
know its contents ran pretty well as high as Bessie’s ; but 
the gratification of that must necessarily await Harold’s 
arrival. He fully agreed with his daughter that the packet 
contained a later will, and pointed out, in answer to Bessie’s 
surprise that the witnesses to Ralph Sedbergh’s signature 
had not come forward and volunteered their evidence on 
the subject, that there was no reason why they should. 
The first will, you see, was never disputed, and for all they 
knew that was the will the signature of which they had 
witnessed. 

“ Besides,” he continued, “much as I should like to see 
Harold come into what should be his own, we mustn’t be 
too sanguine. Good man of business though Raloh 
Sedbergh was, we must remember he was very ill, and even 
if it is a will, it may be unsigned or unwitnessed, or 
want something very essential to make it of any legal 
value.” 

At length Harold Sedbergh made his appearance, and in 
spite of some seeming coyness on the part of his fiancee^ 
kissed her with the utmost effrontery. 

“ It’s no use, doctor,” he said, as he shook hands with 
Mrs. Radley, “ you’ll have to give her me as soon as Tve a 


^6 


A FAMILY FAILING-. 


home to take her to, for I won’t marry anybody else, and 
you can’t condemn me to remain single all my life.” 

The doctor, indeed, had considerably changed his mind 
on the subject. The situation was entirely changed ; 
nobody could accuse him now of endeavouring to entrap a 
wealthy husband for his daughter ; then he had of late dis- 
covered how very deeply Bessie’s affections were committed 
to Harold’s keeping. And finally, the latter had buckled 
to hard work in a resolute fashion, and, as far as he could 
learn, had completely given up gambling. Indeed, he only 
wanted to be thoroughly convinced on this point to give a 
full and willing consent to the marriage, conscious as he 
was that he could give more help to the young couple than 
the world generally would give him credit for. 

And now Bessie produced the packet — told how she had 
received it, how she had pledged herself to keep it secret, 
and how she now finally discharged her trust and handed it 
over to its lawful owner. Harold was certainly filled with 
amazement. He had looked on all connected with Enderby 
as completely finished as far as he was concerned ; that 
the question of the succession was completely settled for 
many years, and that, even on the death of his uncle, it was 
never likely to make any difference to him. He tore open 
the packet — a slight exclamation of surprise escaped him as 
he mastered the contents, and when he had finished he 
turned to Bessie with a smile, and exclaimed : 

“ Miss Radley, you’re an heiress, though sad to say my 
poor father’s bequest is clogged with an encumbrance.” 

‘‘ Let me see,” cried the doctor, “ let me read it out for 
the benefit of the community. “ Ah, I see,” he continued, 
“ a will, as we expected.” And then he proceeded to read 
out the last testament of Ralph Sedbergh ; which, after 
a preamble, in which he stated his firm conviction that 
nothing steadied a young man more than being wedded to 
a good woman, and said that his own happiest days had been 
those of his married life, he went on to say that if any- 
thing could steady Harold’s flighty, unstable disposition, it 
would be marriage with a good sensible girl. That he had 
chosen to fall in love with Miss Radley, and had re- 
fused to give her up at his bidding, which at the time he 
had considered nothing but contumacious obstinacy on his 


THE OPENING OP THE PACKET. 


97 


part, but upon coming later to know Bessie Radley well, he 
had come to the conclusion that his son was gifted with 
much more common-sense than he had heretofore given him 
credit for. And that upon recognition of that fact, he 
hereby revoked all former wills, and hereby bequeathed 
Enderby Manor, with the Hall, plate, furniture, and all 
other appanages, to Elizabeth Catherine Radley, upon her 
marriage with his son, Harold Sedbergh. But that in the 
event of the same Harold Sedbergh, or the same Elizabeth 
Catherine Radley declining to fulfil such arrangement, then 
the property was to go as before to his brother. Captain 
John Sedbergh, subject only to a legacy of five thousand 
pounds to the said Elizabeth Catherine Radley. 

Signed, 

Ralph Sedbergh. 

Witnessed Robert Griffin — Clara Thompson. 

“ Oh, Harold ! ’’ exclaimed Bessie. “ I am so glad 
Enderby is yours after all.” 

“ But that’s just what it isn’t,” he replied, with a mock 
gravity, which the laughter in his eyes utterly contradicted. 
“ It belongs to Miss Elizabeth Catherine Radley, and Miss 
Radley, the heiress, may not be of the same mind as Miss 
Radley, the doctor’s daughter.” 

“ Ah, Harold ! you know better than that, dearest ” and 
Bessie looked up into his face with such entire love and 
confidence as made the ultimate disposition of Enderby 
tolerably clear to everyone present. 

“ And suppose that high-minded young man, Harold 
Sedbergh, should disdain to make a mercenary marriage ? ” 

“ He would be like a Sedbergh all over,” chimed in the 
doctor. 

And then the whole party burst into a ripple of joyous 
laughter, as people do when the desire of their hearts is 
fulfilled. 

“As far as my judgment goes,” continued the doctor, 
“although not couched in strictly legal phraseology, this is 
a perfectly valid will. As for Griffin, your father’s old 
butler, he’s at the Hall still, a taciturn man, and devoted to 
his late master. It’s quite easy to understand that he would 
take no notice of Kilmington gossip. As for Clara Thomp- 

7 


98 


A FAMILY FAILING. 


son, I never heard of her, but Griffin could of course tell 
us all about her/^ 

“ I have some idea that there was a housemaid of that 
name,’’ said Harold. “ I recollect being struck by it the 
last time I was at Enderby as a name not usually associated 
with her position.” 

“ That would be she, no doubt,” said the doctor. “ But 
what will your Uncle John say to this? He has not 
behaved very well to you, Master Harold.” 

“ No, though in the opinion of most people, he would 
have been deemed extremely liberal in his offer. He pro- 
posed to give up the Hall to me, make me a liberal allow- 
ance in consideration of my management of the property, 
but he saddled it with the same condition that my father 
sought to impose upon me — that I should give up Bessie.” 

‘‘ Do you mean to say, Harold,” cried the girl anxiously, 
“ that it was on my account your father disinherited you ? ” 

Harold nodded assent, and the doctor murmured “ Ah ! 
I was afraid that it was so.” 

“ My darling ! ” cried the girl, as she threw her arms 
round her lover’s neck. “Thank God that your father 
learnt to love me before he died, and enabled me to restore 
your rights to you again.” 

The Doctor and Harold had a long talk that evening, 
before the latter returned to “ The Hoop,” where he had 
engaged a bed for the night. They both agreed that 
things should be made as easy as possible for John Sedbergh, 
but it was not to be expected he could be left in quiet 
possession of the property to which he was not entitled. 
Besides, as Harold observed, Enderby under this latter 
will belonged more to Bessie than himself. 

“ It will make him very angry I am afraid ; to do him 
justice, I d^n’t believe he’ll mind giving up Enderby a bit; 
but what will make him furious will be the having to do it 
by compulsion, and that the marrying Bessie is the condi- 
tion by which I step into his shoes.” 


tJONCLUSION. 




CONCLUSION. 

When the discovery of the contents of the new will were 
first announced to Captain John by M'essrs Penge and 
Carboy, his state of mind quite equalled his nephew's 
expectations. He declared he would contest his possession 
of Enderby to the uttermost. That he would spend every 
farthing he could wring from the property in maintaining 
his claims. That if it was wrested from him, that hussy of 
a doctor's daughter should find that the kernel was gone, 
and that she had only inherited the husk. He raved about 
the ingratitude of his nephew ; exclaimed against ‘‘ that 
scheming old Radley," who took advantage of his position 
to introduce his daughter as a quasi-nurse to the sick man's 
bedside, and how between them they so worked upon his 
enfeebled brain as to induce him to make this preposterous 
will in her favour. 

In vain did Penge and Carboy, who had seen the later 
instrument, inform him that he hadn't a leg to stand upon 
and counselled him, if he would go to law, to at all events, 
put it to the arbitration of a friendly suit. No, John 
Sedbergh had nailed his colours to the mast and, sink or swim, 
was determined on war, war to the last extremity. What 
was the opinion of Doctor Radley worth about the state of 
his brother's mind ? His evidence was tainted. He was too 
much interested on his daughter's account to be worthy of 
credence ; it was in vain to point out to him that the doctor 
bore an unblemished reputation. Pooh ! all men were 
rogues, when a prize like this was at stake. If Messrs. Penge 
and Carboy did not choose to take up the case, there were 
no doubt plenty of solicitors who would. In short, to discuss 
the subject with Captain John in those early days was some- 
thing like arguing with a north-east wind. 

An interview with Griffin made the question of witnesses 
clear enough. Yes, he had witnessed his master’s signature to 
what he believed to be a will, towards the end of his last ill- 
ness ; he was quite certain about it, and it would be a week 
or two before his death. It was the only one he had 


IfO 


A FAMILY FAILINO. 


witnessed, and he had never heard of any other; Clara 
Thompson was one of the housemaids, and had witnessed 
the Squire’s signature with him. When Captain John came 
into the property, he had reduced the establishment, and 
Clara had been one of those dismissed. She had taken a 
place, as he understood, somewheres up in the North, he did 
not know her address himself, but no doubt some of the other 
servants did, in short there could be very little doubt, as 
Messrs. Penge and Carboy said, that this lately-found will 
was substantially good. 

“ But,” continued Mr. Penge, “ it would be a thousand 
pities this case should go into a Court of Law. It’s no use 
blinking the fact that though in my opinion you must 
eventually get a verdict in your favour. Captain Sedbergh 
can put you to a great deal of expense and annoyance. 
Recollect, law is not given away, it’s a commodity you pay 
pretty high for, and if Captain Sedbergh insists in this plea 
of undue influence on the part of Doctor and Miss Radley, 
he has the makings of a strong case in his favour. You see 
Miss Radley benefits under this will in any case; if she doesn’t 
come in for Enderby, which depends upon herself, she does 
for five thousand pounds, and that’s a thing most people 
would think worth fighting about. Now I am speaking not 
only in the interests of both sides, but also in the interests 
of the property. Who is there that Captain Sedbergh is 
likely to hear reason from ? — he won’t from us, and it’s not 
likely he will from you. He is hot-tempered and very 
prejudiced ; the best advice I can give you, is, if you can 
think of any one likely to have influence with Captain 
Sedbergh, let them talk the matter over.” 

“ The only man I can think of,” replied Harold, “ is my 
Uncle Aleck. It’s a forlorn chance, but we might try it.” 

Aleck Sedbergh, upon being -appealed to by his nephew 
to undertake this mission, at first vowed he would have 
nothing to do with it. No good could come of it, he and 
John had already nearly quarrelled over the matter, as in- 
deed two Sedberghs were very apt to do in discussing any 
subject. He admitted however that the new will put the 
match with Miss Radley in so different a light that objec- 
tion to it now would be absurd, and ended by consenting to 
see what he could do. But remember. Master Harold,” he 


CONCLUSION. 


101 


added, ** even if he don’t care about the property, no man 
likes being kicked out of one, and any reasonable concession 
John may ask, I think you and Miss Radley ought to 
consent to.” 

Before starting on his mission, Aleck Sedbergh took a 
resolute vow to, if possible, control himself. He did not 
suffer from the hereditary curse of the family so severely as 
his brothers, and-consequently, though peppery enough, was 
the most even-tempered of that irritable family. He found 
John, to his great surprise, in a milder mood than he had 
anticipated, consequent upon his having just got over a sharp 
attack of his old enemy. At first he obstinately declined to 
hear of any surrender or compromise. That old scamp 
Radley, upon finding that he was unable to marry his 
daughter to the heir of Enderby by fair means, had schemed 
to accomplish his end, in conjunction with his daughter, by 
employing the most shameful influence and cajolery over the 
dying man. It was absurd to suppose that Ralph would have 
left Enderby to Miss Radk y if he had been himself. But here 
Aleck reminded him that he stood quite alone in his opinion 
that Ralph was not in full possession of his faculties ; that 
not only Dr. Radley, but Griffin, who had been with him 
for years, and all those about him, were prepared to 
testify that the dead man was in full possession of his 
faculties till within the last few hours. That there was no 
doubt upon his coming to know Miss Radley, Ralph had 
completely changed his mind about that young lady, and 
had come to the conclusion that she would not only make 
Harold a good wife, but that a good \\ife was just exactly 
what Harold needed, to give stability to his character, and 
that the reason he left such strict injunctions that the second 
will should be kept a secret for a twelvemonth was to test 
the strength of the young people’s affection. 

Had it not been for the beneficial effect produced upon 
his health, and consequently on his temper, by his last 
opportune attack, it is very doubtful whether John Sedbergh 
would have yielded in the slightest degree to his brother’s 
persuasions. But he had not been so well for months, and 
it is easy to be amiable when you’re in good health, 
even if called upon to the extent of surrendering a 
property gracefully, which the law threatens to take from 




A ^'A]VIlLY FAlLlNa 


you forcibly. The message too from Harold, that he was 
prepared to meet his wishes to any reasonable extent, 
regarding the income derived from Enderby, also gratified 
Captain John, and he finally promised that there should be 
no lawsuit. 

“ Gad,’’ he said ‘‘ I never wanted the place, and hate the 
country. Pall Mall’s good enough for me. I’ve pretty 
well as much money as I want, but if I decide upon 
taking two or three hundred a year from the property for 
my life, it won’t hurt Harold. The boy’s behaved like a 
gentleman, and — confound it ! I’ll do the thing handsomely 
while I’m about it, and give the bride a wedding present.” 

“ Ah ! ” said the doctor when the news of the amicable 
settlement which had been arrived at reached him. ‘‘ It’s 
terrible to think of the discord in families caused by gout. 
If a timely attack had not relieved John Sedbergh of his 
irritability it would have occasioned an acrimonious lawsuit, 
involving bad blood, and a terrible waste of money. Talk 
about hynoptism — rubbish ! Podagra is the cause of 
half the crime in the country, I believe, and ought to be 
regarded as “ extenuating circumstances ” by an intelligent 
British Jury. 


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Three volume edition. Containing “ Plain Tales from the Hills,” 
“ The Phantom ’Rickshaw, arid In Black and White,” “ Soldiers Three, 
and Wee- Willie Winkie.” 

BUFF CLOTH AND INKS. PER VOLUME, $ 1 . 00 . 


EXTRACTS FROM THE PRESS. 

“ The masterly force and grasp of the author are plainly evident.” — 
A^. O. States, 

“The style of the writer is original, vigorous and clean cut.” — 
Chicago Herald, 

“ His story is always original, often startling, sometimes tragic to a 
degree .” — Christian Union, 

* * * Whose stories are told with an amiable egotism, infectious 
humor, and in a picturesque dialect that will send his name ringing down 
to postQvity. ^Louisville Courier Journal, 


JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY. 

142 TO 150 WORTH STREET, NEW YORK. 



HOTEL- In addition to being favorite in 
Fall and Winter, it is most desirable, cool 
and delightful for Spring and Summer 
visitors. Located in the heart of New 
York City, at Fifth Avenue and 58th and 
59th Streets, and overlooking Central 
Park and Plaza Square. A marvel of lux- 
ury and comfort. Convenient to places of 
amusement and stores. Fifth Ave. stages. 
Cross-town and Belt line horse cars pass 
the doors. Terminal Station Sixth Ave. 
elevated road within half a block. The 
hotel is absolutely fire-proof. Conducted 
on American and European plans. Sum- 
mer rates. F. A. Hammond. 


nURR/IY HILL HOTEL. 



Park Avenue, 40th and 41st Sts. 

NEW YORK. 

HUNTING HAMMOND, 


T OC ATED one block from Grand Central Sta- ■ 
tion. A Hotel of superior excellence on 
both the American and European plans. It 
occupies the highest grade in New York, and 
the healthiest of locations. 


FOR TRANSIENT GUESTS, 

Tourist Travelers, or as a Residence foi 
Families, no Healthier or Pleasanter place 
can be found in New York City. 


Patrons of the Murray Hill Hotel have 
their Baggage Transferred to and from the 
Grand Central Station Free of Cliarg^e. 


LOVELL bIflnOND aCLES 



$85 Strictly High Grade 


FOUR STYLES, 1891 MODELS, 


FOR 


LADIES AND GENTS 

Loveirs BOYS’ and GIRLS’ Safety, 

PRICE. $35. 

BICYCLE CATALOGUE FREE. 


JOHN P. LOVELL ARMS CO., 

MANUFACTURERS. 

147 Washington Street, 

BOSTON, MASS. 


Everybody’s Tjrpewriter. ^ For Young and Old. 

* Price, $15.00 and $20.00. 


LIVE AGENTS WANTED. 


SEND FOR FULL PARTICULARS. 


Send 6c. in Stamps for 1 00 Page Illustrated Sporting Goods Catalogue 





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